


The Fall

by shukagari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, KAGS AND HINA ARE ONLY IN THE LAST CHAP, M/M, Minor Character Death, i really like the oc old lady i made, if you want to just read them you can just read the last chap, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukagari/pseuds/shukagari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a broken down society; this is a week that Iwaizumi and Oikawa met, and spent together. </p><p>- Iwaizumi grins in turn, “For a better world.”<br/>- “For a better world,” Oikawa echoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a two chaptered fic - I think, so far. 
> 
> 'The fall' that is referenced in the fic is basically when the new government took control; I don't really go into this because it's not important and this fic is mainly just about iwaoi living in this world and their different ideals etc. The first part is just me establishing the world so it might be kind of boring but yeah - hopefully the rest isn't!! I've got the story all planned out, just gotta write it up - I should have the next chapter out very soon though! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it :)

A young man runs lightly across the chipped rooftop, at the edge he leans over with his old flickering flash light in hand and shines it into the room beneath that is bare but for a bed and dressing table. Assured by this, he grasps the edge of the roof tightly and lowers himself down to the thin window sill, getting to work on unlocking the old rusted lock.

Unaware of it, he is watched by Iwaizumi from the shadow behind his door.

  
After some work and copious, whispered swearing – he clicks the lock out of place, glances behind him to make sure he is not being watched and then pushes himself into the room; falling neatly onto the bed beneath the window in a cat-like sprawl.

  
Iwaizumi doesn't move, but he fingered his knife that was always strapped into his belt. He watched him straighten from his crouch and do a sweep of the room with his eyes; and Iwaizumi knew when he had been spotted. A quiet indrawn breath, his body stiffening for half a second and then, with good reflexes, he was dragging himself back to the still open window.

  
Iwaizumi kicked himself into action, jumping onto the bed and grabbing the stranger by the back of his ratty shirt. He slammed him back down hard so that they both bounced a little on the mattress. They struggled to be the one on top, both of them jabbing elbows and knees into soft parts, the stranger even went as far as biting, with both of them swearing loudly – until Iwaizumi managed to get the upper hand by literally slamming his forehead against the stranger's nose. He quickly climbed on top of him, straddling narrow hips, pulling his knife out in the same motion and pushing it against his pale throat. The stranger seemed to have the same idea, and countered just as quick – shoving his own knife against Iwaizumi's throat.

  
They were at an impasse.

  
Iwaizumi glared down at the stranger, who's face was now half-illuminated by the shadowy moonlight – deep brown eyes stood out on pale skin, brown curls fanning his face, and a thin stream of blood now trickled out from a small nose onto red lips. The stranger was attempting to glare back, but it just looked more like a ferocious squint. “Your name,” Iwaizumi said, his voice a low grunt having not spoken in some time.

  
The cold steel of the stranger's knife bit into Iwaizumi's throat, he hissed, “Only if you tell me who's side you are on. The people, or those in charge?”.

  
“I'm on my own side,” Iwaizumi said, now with a scowl to match his glare. He knew this sort; the young hopefuls who were the sing-songers of the rebels and better times to come.

  
Despite Iwaizumi proclaiming his loyalty to neither side; his answer seemed to satisfy him as the stranger grinned lop-sidedly up at him. “I'm Oikawa Tooru, a supporter of the people – I heard there was a rebel base in this town so I came to check it out,” he said cheerfully, despite a knife still being pressed to his throat. Iwaizumi half expected him to stick up his arm and ask to shake hands – although that gesture of goodwill and greeting had fallen out of fashion years ago.

  
“Rebel base, huh?” Iwaizumi said, and scrutinised Oikawa's face closely. “You don't look old enough to be a rebel.”

  
Oikawa scowled, which transformed his face into one of a pouting child. “I'm eighteen, I'm old enough and they'll accept anyone who wants to fight,” he said indignantly.

  
Iwaizumi gave a small nod, and lowered his knife – Oikawa doing the same, albeit a little more wearily. “We're the same age,” Iwaizumi said, “although I've got a lot more sense – you'd do right just living for yourself, instead of joining a rebellion.”

  
Oikawa opened his mouth to reply with some sort of smart alec quip, but the blaring of sirens and the methodical chop of helicopter blades in the sky pricked Iwaizumi's ears – he slapped his hand over Oikawa's mouth, interrupting him. “They after you?” Iwaizumi murmured, eyebrows raised and lips pulled tight.

  
Oikawa bit his lip, stared up into Iwaizumi's eyes and said nothing – clearly wondering if Iwaizumi could be trusted; a hefty reward came to those who turned 'criminals' over, or so it was rumoured.

  
Iwaizumi lowered himself closer to Oikawa, pushed his face into the pillow behind Oikawa's head and lay still. They both barely breathed as the helicopter searchlight shone brightly in through the window, stayed a moment, and then drifted further away.

  
After a few long minutes, and when the sound of sirens had died away, Iwaizumi sat up and glanced hesitantly out the window. There was no helicopter in the sky and the road was clear and dark. He looked down at Oikawa, a bitter curl to his lip, “I'm sure the rebels will be happy to have someone join with a tail on them.”

  
Oikawa twitched angrily, and then shoved Iwaizumi off him. “I don't have a tail on me, I was just out after curfew so I was therefore a 'suspected rebel',” he replied, with something akin to pride in his voice.

  
Iwaizumi just smiled, a small patronising smile though it was – he still felt as if his lips and cheeks might break from the force of it after having not smiled for so long – the dust spilt out of the corners of his lips; then he got up to retrieve some blankets from the other room. All of the blankets that he owned were old, worn and smelt faintly like moth balls – but they were warm which was all that was needed of them. He came back with an armful and laid them out neatly on the hard-wood floor, “You can sleep here tonight,” he said, hands on hips.

  
“Gracious host,” Oikawa grinned, back to smiling again too after he'd let his bloody nose run on one of Iwaizumi's blankets. He slipped off the bed onto the floor, wrapping himself up, he shivered for a moment with the cold that leached in through the blankets from the floor.

  
Iwaizumi stepped over him and climbed into his bed. He listened to Oikawa's breath that had evened out as he stared out the window at the moon shrouded by dark trees, and then when he was sure Oikawa was asleep – he let himself drift off as well.

(DAY ONE)

  
The next morning Iwaizumi stands in front of his dressing table, fully naked and unselfconcious; washing himself down with a bucket of warm water and a cheap block of soap. Oikawa wakes up with a loud groan, announcing his rising to the world, and then blinks rapidly under the bright light coming in through the window.

  
When Iwaizumi looks over to him, still scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of grime on his arm, Oikawa is sat up resting on his elbows and staring at him unabashedly. “I've decided,” Iwaizumi says, and at the agreeable hum from Oikawa he continues, “you can stay here for a week whilst you try and find out about the rebel base”.

  
Oikawa grins wide and honest, “Thanks, that'll be great to have a warm place to stay and-” he looks appreciatively down Iwaizumi's body, “with the added bonus of great company,” and winks.

“I rescind my offer,” Iwaizumi says deadpan, and at Oikawa's squawk of protest he almost smiles.

  
Oikawa joins him by the bucket, cupping soapy water in his hands and rubbing it into his face. “What's your name again?” Oikawa asks, as he rubs the soap from his eyes and then happily dries his face off with Iwaizumi's blanket.

  
Iwaizumi hadn't told him, he wasn't sure if Oikawa was just going to be staying the night – so he hadn't seen the point. “I'm Iwaizumi,” he answers, as he attempts to rub some soap onto his shoulder – his muscles shifting uncomfortably under his scarred skin, and he noticeably winces.

  
Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa's eyes on him as he struggles to clean his back. After a moment longer he says, voice soft, “Let me get that for you,” and he reaches over to pull the soap out of Iwaizumi's fingers.

Oikawa is quiet, and he looks a little sad as he rubs the soap almost tentatively into the scarred skin of Iwaizumi's back, his fingers touch the silvery scars that criss-cross the skin there almost curiously but he doesn't ask questions. He just cleans them, and then cups his hands with warm water and lets the soap rinse away. They are whipping scars from a different time in Iwaizumi's life, and one he doesn't wish to go back to by talking about it – he's grateful Oikawa doesn't ask as they dress, he doesn't even look at them again after he'd cleaned them and Iwaizumi thinks he probably already knows what they are. Who wouldn't, in times like these, whipping has become a pretty common practice and the scars they leave are unmistakable.

  
Iwaizumi wraps Oikawa's head in his grandmother's old shawl just in case some of the wrong sort spots him, and they head out to the town with Iwaizumi's spoils that he got from hunting the day before on their backs. On the outskirts of the town Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a brief lecture. “You cannot talk about the rebels in there, even with me, you must not ask anyone for clues and rumours – you must act is if you are not looking at all. It will be difficult to find anything, but it's the safest way,” he raises his eyebrows sternly when he finishes, and then starts walking in – Oikawa trailing closely behind him.

  
At the gates they are stopped by a portly government worker who obviously gets his three meals a day, “Who's this?” he asks Iwaizumi in a high voice, pointing a ringed finger at Oikawa.

  
“A wanderer,” Iwaizumi grunts, “I came across him yesterday in the woods, half-starved to death, and took him in.”

  
“Yes, yes,” the government worker agrees, nervous and jumpy under Iwaizumi's glare, “that all checks out.” And he let's them through.

  
The town isn't really a town; at least not one of old. It is a cluster of caravans, shabby market stalls and ram-shackled old buildings that had been there since before the fall. The crowd are a mismatch of people; some skinny and broken shells sitting in corners or wandering aimlessly between stalls, some trying to make the best of it, and survive day to day – and others who have still managed to thrive in this new world all trying to trade their different wares, calling out in loud voices all the bargains they have for sale.

  
Government workers stand at every turn, straight backed in their uniforms and with a gun holstered to their waists; with a stern, watchful look in their eye – scantily dressed ladies and men stand near them; murmuring lucrative words with hooded eyes, some go with them, some brush them aside with a wave of their hand, and the rest ignore them altogether. The men and women leave pouting in search of an easier prey.

  
Oikawa walks close to Iwaizumi, and feels significantly surprised by how well under the government's thumb this town is – in the city, where he'd travelled from, they were still trying to suppress the riots and keep order – but in a small town with less people, he supposed it was easier to do this. Fear was something harder to suppress when the numbers were not on your side.

  
As they walk passed a dark alley a skinny man scuttled out with a rusted knife and waved it with an unpractised hand at Oikawa; gesturing wordless and hungry to the meat on his back with his free hand. Oikawa looks to Iwaizumi in askance, who easily kicks the man in the side, and watches him immediately buckle to his knees and cry, “spare me, spare me!”. Iwaizumi says nothing, just unhooks some meat from his rope and dumps it in front of the man and carries on walking. Oikawa is rooted to the spot in his curiosity; he watches the man grab the meat, look up bleary eyed to the blue sky and then run back into his little rut in the wall. Oikawa quickly hurries to catch up with Iwaizumi.

  
A large woman steps out in front of them further down the road, dressed in an assortment of brightly coloured materials, and catches Oikawa's face in her sharply nailed hands. “You're very pretty,” she says to him with a business-like admiration, “pretty enough to be one of my boys.”

  
When Oikawa glances at Iwaizumi in something akin to terror; he finds the other looking incredibly amused. “What would he have to do?” Iwaizumi asks, arms folded, ready to haggle.

  
“Oh you know, sleep with my customers who bring me the best things to trade – he'll get two meals a day and a bit of extra spending money for himself,” she smiled in what she thought was a charming, kindly way.

  
Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa's arm with a dismissive smile, and pulled her hand from his face, “Money is worthless,” he said to her, “I think I'll take him elsewhere.”

  
She grinned, clearly not put off by losing out on Oikawa, “Ay don't I know it! I was rich before the fall, and now look at me – still doing well but nothing to buy in this dump!” then she nodded to the meat on Iwaizumi's back, “how about you give me some of that, you can buy my best boy with that.”

  
“No thanks,” Iwaizumi said, and pushed Oikawa ahead of him by the small of his back.

  
“Why?” she asked, scrutinising Iwaizumi with a suspicious look, “you prefer the company of women?”.

  
Iwaizumi grinned at her warmly, “You know I don't,” he said, “I've been to you before, you said the squirrel I traded with you was the best you'd had in years!”.

  
“Oh yes,” she said her voice distant – as if she was imagining the lovely broth that squirrel had been cooked in that night. Then she blinked, and came back to herself. “I'd definitely like some more, another day then?” Her voice was tinged with hope.

  
“Another day,” Iwaizumi replied, and with a two fingered salute he marched on smartly, pulling Oikawa along with him by the hand – who'd done nothing but watch Iwaizumi handle each person with all the ease in the world, and feel incredibly floored by it all.

  
–

  
They take their place in line at the busiest stall in the market, a vegetable hut, that was manned by a big man and his brittle wife. Iwaizumi manages to get them two courgettes and a potato at the reasonable price of two squirrels, and then he sends Oikawa off to haggle for some eggs – luckily for him the woman who works it is easily charmed by good looks and youth, and Iwaizumi is pleased and impressed by the six eggs he comes back with at the price of a squirrel. Oikawa hands him back the other squirrel Iwaizumi thought he'd have to use with a smile.

  
They make their way back to the house without any further incidents – although Oikawa remains watchful, and Iwaizumi, next to him, is taut like a bowstring – always giving the outward appearance of ease which seemed to scare off any unsavoury people; but he had the brains to know to always watch his back.

  
In this light, Oikawa can see Iwaizumi's home is one of the old houses left behind as an old relic from before the fall, not one of the new, less stable ones erected after. There are a few other houses around and a road that passes through the middle of them, but there's no other people as far as he knows - just his luck he had to choose one that was occupied last night, although Iwaizumi has turned out to be surprisingly pleasant company. Large trees have sprouted and tower above them, small flowers peep out in the overgrown grass and moss runs up the side of a few of the houses like ladders.

  
Oikawa climbs up through the same bedroom window he'd come through last night, thighs tight around a pipe that runs up the length of the house and uses his hands to pull himself up. Once inside he throws down a bucket to Iwaizumi so he can go collect water. There are five rooms in this house, two bedrooms upstairs and a bathroom (with a toilet, shower and taps which no longer work), and a dining/sitting room and small kitchen, with no gas so the stove doesn't work, downstairs. There is only a leftover wooden bed frame in the other bedroom, and downstairs is just as bare – just a small, threadbare couch in the sitting room, a table with one chair and the usual furnishings of cupboards in the kitchen.

  
Oikawa goes back out through the window to get outside as the front door is jammed shut to keep unwanted guests out (although some will still fall in through the window). He finds Iwaizumi in what was probably once the back garden sitting on an old canvas chair with a small fire going, and another chair set beside it. “Sit down,” Iwaizumi says without looking up, he pokes around in the fire with a stick before throwing in some more firewood.

  
Oikawa takes a seat and is scared for a moment that the chair will collapse beneath him with the way the hinges creak, but it doesn't. He sits and says nothing. Just watches the flames dance. “You seemed a little put off in town,” Iwaizumi starts conversationally, “is it not like that where you come from?”.

  
“No,” Oikawa says, he hestitates for a moment about divulging too much about himself - but then goes on anyway after a moments thought that it doesn't really matter, after this week he and Iwaizumi will probably never see each other again. “I lived in the city, and for most of my life it was just my sister and I – it was very different back there compared to out here. The people worked against the government, no one had stalls or flirted with those in charge. We all just scavenged, hoarded and rioted – we had ration cards too for food, I guess that was the government's way of trying to calm us down with a peace offering”. He stopped, and thought of his life there – of the ration bread that did not taste like bread, of the half-rotting vegetables handed out for the card, the meat that was reserved for the government and their army – but sometimes looters got a hold of the trucks that transported it and handed it out to the people. Some people, with meat in their bellies, had wanted to stop the rioting, they thought if it stopped they could get more of it – so the people fought each other, and fought the government on the side. None of the riots amounted to much.

  
He remembered his sister, all sharp edges and protective arms, his mother who told them of her dreams of the feasts she'd had when she was poor back when the fall was beginning – 'two meals a day! Can you believe it! Oh all the meals we swallowed down without tasting, eaten with such disregard!'. His father was generally a quiet man, a staunch believer in the rebellion (in his youth he'd listened to a daily radio show, when the radios still worked, that continuously parroted the need for continued resistance) and he was gone most of the day lending his services to the rebels. At night his father became a fury, and he and Oikawa's mother argued until dawn broke across the sky – over the howling wind that blew through the city, and startled you went it stopped – she wanted the riots over; he wanted the government gone. Oikawa didn't mind either way, just as long as he got a meal a day, but when his parents were shot in the head by a government firing squad – he saw everything with his father's eyes; 'the resistance must continue'.

  
When he came back to himself Iwaizumi was crouched by the fire and had a pot bubbling on it; it was filled with water, squirrel meat, and a chopped up courgette and potato. “How'd you come by this house?” Oikawa asked Iwaizumi, just for something to say and to get his mind off his own ghosts.

  
“It's where I've always lived,” Iwaizumi said, not looking up from pushing twigs into the fire. “My mum came back here after the fall to be with my grandparents, she met my dad here.”

  
Oikawa asked, maybe a little too nosily, “Who were you with before you ended up alone?” but Iwaizumi didn't seem perturbed by his curiosity.

  
“I was mostly with my granddad,” he said, “I never met my dad, he was just passing through town when he met my mum – they were together for a summer.” He shoved another bit of wood into the fire, and then lifted the lid on the pot – through a heavy cloud of steam he said, “my mum died when I was young, of complications from my birth, my grandma followed shortly after – I don't remember them at all really, but I know they were good people because my granddad loved and missed them so much.” Iwaizumi sat back on his haunches and looked up at the sky, he smiled a little. “It was just me and my granddad for a few years, he taught me to hunt and fish, everything that keeps me alive now. He died a few years back”. Iwaizumi closed his eyes and saw himself, leaning over his granddad's gasping frame, his face stricken with worry and his small, less calloused hands pressed to his chest where warm blood bubbled up through his fingers; fingers that his granddad grasped tightly and told him to _be strong_. When he opened his eyes, there was no blood or ragged, pained breathing in his ears – just clear blue sky and the sun kissing his skin.

  
Iwaizumi sat down again in his chair that gave out a tired huff, this one had been his granddad's – the one Oikawa sat on was his grandma's, and when she died it was Iwaizumi's. He supposed for now, it could be Oikawa's.

  
“It should be done soon,” he said as he watched a small dribble of water slip down the side of the pot and _hiss_ in the flames. And then he looked at Oikawa and asked, “Who were you with before you came here?”.

  
Oikawa chewed on his lip thoughtfully, and then as he stretched up his hands toward the sun he said, “I was with my sister, we got separated in one of the big city riots. She's strong, I know she's alive – she never wanted to leave the city, and I guess in a way, us losing each other without it being our choice made it easier for me to leave”. Iwaizumi nodded his head in agreement; but he supposed if he had the chance he'd always want to say goodbye – and maybe Oikawa would have too and was just saying that to make it hurt a little less, to convince himself it was better this way.

  
Iwaizumi spooned out the food into tins, handed one to Oikawa and then sat back down next to him to eat – they sat together and watched the sun send billowy shadows across their path, and then it's slow dip beneath the horizon. They put out the fire, and were careful to make sure no more embers still burned as they headed back inside for the night.

  
After talking some more, laying on their sides in Iwaizumi's bed, Oikawa gave a loud yawn. “I guess it's sleep time,” he said, and slipped off the bed to his bundle of blankets - but Iwaizumi stopped him with a touch of his arm.

  
“You can sleep up here, the hard-wood floor gets cold at night,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. Oikawa climbed back in with a grateful smile, and after their talk – they were careful not to touch the other so as not to reopen old wounds.

  
They had frightful dreams that night.

  
(DAY TWO)

  
Iwaizumi woke up later in the day than he was used to, and with more sleep in his body he felt a little disoriented and sluggish – at least he did until he tipped a bucket full of cold water over his head; and then he felt quite refreshed.

  
Oikawa was still sound asleep, happily rolled up in blankets, so Iwaizumi felt it would be a kindness to wake him up. He leant over Oikawa and squeezed out a small flannel filled with cold water over Oikawa's peaceful, sleeping face. Oikawa awoke with a start, sputtered for a bit as if he'd just popped up from drowning, and then glared at him through a film of sleep. Iwaizumi laughed loudly until that immediately died when he was pushed off the bed by an unamused Oikawa's flailing legs.

  
They spent the rest of the late morning sharpening Iwaizumi's arrow heads and tying them with stall-bought twine to the body of the arrow. Iwaizumi nursing his bruises from the fall he took from the bed, grumbles under his breath until Oikawa shoves some of the ration bread he'd brought with him under his nose – Iwaizumi accepts the peace offering, and wolfs it down with a lot more gusto than Oikawa ever felt for it in the city.

  
In the late afternoon they go out to check the traps Iwaizumi had set a few days before. The only thing Oikawa had caught in the city was pigeons, which had soon learnt not to migrate there anymore after they'd become the most wanted delicacy by everyone in the city – he stares at the three dead rabbits feeling a little queasy, and then watches with morbid fascination as Iwaizumi skins two with ease. When he gets to the third, he looks up at Oikawa and hands it to him, “show me how to skin it, I know you've been watching”. Oikawa takes it, struggles his way through the motions, is sometimes guided by Iwaizumi's calloused hands on his fingers, but he manages the job – although it's definitely not as neat looking as Iwaizumi's, Iwaizumi seems incredibly pleased – apparently happy to be able to have someone to teach the trick.

  
On the way back, Iwaizumi interrogates him with a list of questions; “Do you know how to string a bow?” “Do you know how to set traps?” “Do you know how to start a fire without a match?” “Do you know how to fish?” “Do you know...” – Oikawa answers them all in the negative feeling more and more inadequate as the list goes on; Iwaizumi, on the other hand, seems even more pleased than before and says he'll be happy to teach him.

  
They eat a late meal of courgette and rabbit meat, and then head out to some big rocks that Iwaizumi wanted to show him. The rocks are laid out in a crescent shape and overlook the market town on high. They sit themselves down under the wide shade of an oak tree, and watch the town close up for the night – people bustle about bringing in their wares, shouting out to their neighbours 'goodnight' and some last minute trading finishes up, the lights go off one by one – curfew will begin in an hour, they've got time.

  
“Do you know anything about the world before the fall?” Oikawa asks; curiosity Iwaizumi now knows, is a defining trait of Oikawa's.

  
“No,” Iwaizumi says, and then squints his eyes – thinking hard.“Well not much – not anything you probably don't already know. My granddad didn't like to talk about it, made him sad.” He thinks of his granddad a moment, how his face would shutter whenever Iwaizumi would ask a question about the past – how he'd turn away, and demand Iwaizumi not talk about it again; for his own safety, and his granddad's happiness – then he'd give Iwaizumi a small smile and ruffle his affectionately hair, and say 'reflecting on the past isn't safe these days, look to the future'. Iwaizumi looks over at Oikawa, eyebrows raised, “What about you?” he asks, admittedly a little curious himself.

  
Oikawa shrugs, “I know they didn't have a curfew, or a one world government,” he says, “there's traces of smaller things everywhere; like the old houses, the old shops, sometimes you come across the skeletons of cars – not the ones they use now – and out there, when I travelled, I saw abandoned plants and mills. I don't really know anything else, but sometimes you hear about the old times when the older generation are just amongst themselves and they all don't feel as sad about talking about it”. He finishes, and stares up at the black velvet sky with all the stars that he could see clearly now that he wasn't in the city.

  
They sit in silence for a while, just staring up at the slice of sky they can see between the tree branches when Oikawa says, “What do you think of it?”

  
Iwaizumi's eyebrows crinkle, “Of what?” he asks, perplexed.

  
“The world.” He says in a tone that implies 'obviously' was going to be tacked on to the end of that sentence, until Oikawa had the foresight to stop.

  
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Well, gee I don't know how I didn't realise that's what you were talking about.” Iwaizumi twiddles for a bit with the end of his shirt, then says, “Well, the old one sounds better I guess – if I didn't have a curfew I'd be able to get more hunting done.”

  
“Then I'll fight for that,” Oikawa says with a cheeky grin, “so Iwaizumi doesn't have to have a curfew anymore.”

  
Iwaizumi grins in turn, “For a better world.”

  
“For a better world,” Oikawa echoes.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I'm very sorry for how long this took - I spent most of the first week editing the first chapter a bit (I think I added about four hundred words so you might want to re-read maybe), and then I was just writing this chapter. I have my first TMA due this Friday so I've been focussing on that a lot so yeah I've just been very busy. Also I have decided, this is now not going to be the last chapter. There will be two more I think - I do have every single thing planned out, just when I write it up sometimes it turns out to be longer than I expected and where I am planning to end chapter three, I just really think there needs to be a break there. 
> 
> I will try to have the next two up soon - after my TMA is complete this Friday I should have a lot more time, I just don't want to be stressed about writing this and my TMA at the same time so getting this chapter out at least will take a bit off. It was fun to write all the same; even if it made me a little stressed lol. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience for those who subscribed (and also thank you for subscribing, your interest gives me a lot of motivation :)). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! It's a bit darker than the other one, but I haven't reached the big stuff yet - but just be wary please. (Also they use some weapons in this and I am no expert - if you are an expert, pls I am too lazy to change it right now - but I'm just going to exercise my right with the fact that this is fictional and I am lazy with research so they might not be completely correct portrayal, I don't get too technical but anyway so I think it's fine tbh).

(DAY THREE)

Iwaizumi skips his wash the next morning, wanting to conserve soap, but he goes out to warm up some water for Oikawa when he wakes up anyway. He's sitting outside, scrambling some eggs when Oikawa plops down next to him in the canvas chair fully washed and awake – smelling of cheap, flowery soap. 

“I think I'll take you out hunting today,” Iwaizumi says, observing the still air and quiet trees – prime for a hunt so he can easily pick up on the sounds of wandering animals, and birds won't be scared off by a tree shuddering in the wind.

Oikawa leans over him, and stares at the pot of yellow eggs, “sounds great,” he says, clutching his belly in hunger – clearly more interested in the food than what Iwaizumi has to say at the moment. 

Iwaizumi pushes him back by his forehead. “Don't get your hair in the eggs,” he grumbles, stirring away again at them again so they don't stick and inspecting them a little closely to make sure none of Oikawa's stray hairs have fallen in. 

Oikawa slumps back in his chair, and smiles happily – closing his pale eyelids against the light of the sun. “They used to make scrambled eggs with milk you know,” he says, importantly – with his uncanny way of knowing everything there is to know about the old world. 

Iwaizumi asks, with some curiosity, “hmm, how do you know that?”. 

“My mum used to tell me, she used to shout out every meal she'd ever had – as if somehow saying their names would make them fill her stomach,” Oikawa smiles warmly at the memory – as if it was a good one to keep safe inside his head; a raving woman strangling the life out of her new life as she clutched desperately to her old one. “She was very strange, but I loved her”.

Iwaizumi doesn't say anything, just thinks of his own mother – the smiling woman he doesn't know in the photographs he has hidden in his granddad's old bag under the bed. 

\- 

They follow the bubbling stream that runs over pebbles by Iwaizumi's house deep into the forest – 

“I think I'll follow this stream to the next city if I don't find anything here, it'll be good to have a fresh source of water on the way,” Oikawa says, as he picks his way carefully over the rocks. 

“What, does this river run that far away?” Iwaizumi asks surprised. 

Oikawa laughs, “Have you not seen any maps?” at the shake of Iwaizumi's head he continues, “Oh well, no it doesn't run that far – stops about half-way in-between.” He puts his hands behind his head and smiles, “I haven't been this way before, so it should be nice.”

Iwaizumi stares off into the distance – and wonders what people are at the other end of this stream, what places are beyond it that he will most likely never see and he can't help but be filled with curiosity. 

\- they diverge from its glistening path, and go into the undergrowth to search for birds or watch animals getting a drink from the shadows. 

The day is warm, and bright. The air still and quiet. It smells of hot earth and wild flowers. Oikawa made sandwiches with the left over bread he had from the city, and rabbit meat – and packed them neatly into Iwaizumi's granddad's old bag which Iwaizumi now carries close to his body. His bow and arrow are wrapped safe and snug in the bag too. Iwaizumi thinks it is a lovely day all round. 

Iwaizumi, despite his bulk, moves agile and quick between the trees. Oikawa, on the other hand, whilst he may be skilled at climbing trees to check out birds' nests and jumping between their branches – was as graceful and silent as an elephant. He tripped over tree roots, started whistling some foreign song loudly and struck up a conversation just as Iwaizumi was about to take aim. 

After an hour of hunting, and no meat to show for it – he turns on Oikawa with a barely contained annoyance. “Are you deliberately stopping me from getting any hunting done out of squeamishness?” Iwaizumi asks, his voice patronising. “Or are you just clumsy today? What happened – you were so quiet when you were creeping across my roof the other day?” 

Oikawa's mouth drops open in surprise, “You heard me?”.

Iwaizumi squints his eyes and looks at him as if he's a little stupid, “Clearly, I don't just sleep standing up behind my door – I was waiting for you,” he says slowly. 

“Oh,” Oikawa starts, and looks strangely crest-fallen. “I was always the quietest back in the city, could jump from building to building without waking a soul – but on the way out here I did injure my knee a little so I guess that could be why...”. He bites on his lip harshly deep in tormented thought, and then he startles; looks up at Iwaizumi as if he's surprised he's still there and listening. 

Iwaizumi rubs a hand down his face, “Just please try to be a little quieter”. 

Oikawa nods, and walks on ahead. 

He is quieter. Doesn't say a word, or trip or whistle loudly. By the time they break for lunch back by the clear stream Iwaizumi has made four clean kills; and he is nothing short of worried. 

–

Iwaizumi skips a stone across the water. Looks over at Oikawa, picks up another, balances it in his hands a moment, and then throws it again. Four skips that time. He looks over at Oikawa again. He's still wearing the same glum expression he's been wearing since they sat down – staring solemnly out across the glistening, rushing stream and chewing slowly on his bread.

Iwaizumi sighs loudly. Oikawa looks over at him, and then quickly glances away – back across the water. Iwaizumi sighs again, “What's up with you?” he asks finally.

“Nothing,” Oikawa pouts. 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at this child he has to deal with, then reaches over and whacks Oikawa on the back of the head. Ignoring Oikawa's loud exclamation, he says, “Clearly there is something wrong, so don't lie.”

Oikawa looks at him with wide eyes for a long disconcerting moment; Iwaizumi starts to flush uncomfortably under his stare – and then he sighs exaggeratedly loud. “Fine,” he starts, “I'm just a little sad that you could hear me – I'd wanted to offer my skills to the rebels, afford their respect from how efficient I was and then make a quick rise in the ranks.” He sighs loudly again, leans his head back on his arms and stares at the sky; Iwaizumi knows not to take what he has said lightly even with his dramatics, “I guess that dream has gone down the drain now.”

All is quiet for a moment. Oikawa stares at the sky with distant eyes; Iwaizumi stares into the water. Then Iwaizumi reaches over, with a cautious hand, and hits him again. Oikawa squawks, rubs his arm with false tears in his eyes and looks over to Iwaizumi to see a comically awkward look on his face, as he rubs at the back of his neck. Oikawa quiets, and waits for Iwaizumi to say something. 

“I'm just careful,” Iwaizumi starts awkwardly. “The government are used to their safety in the cities, I doubt they'd be able to hear you and they'd be too arrogant to think a rebel could get to them – plus the second half of the hunting you were very quiet and -”. He stumbles clumsily over his words, and Oikawa pushes a small smile into the palm of his hand. “If you are worried about wanting to impress the rebels, I can teach you archery or something.” Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa, a little heat to his cheeks. 

Oikawa pulls his hand away from his mouth and shows a sincere smile. “That would be nice,” he says, “thank you.”

They find a small grove of trees; Iwaizumi picks out the tree in the centre and then marks out a circle on the tree with his knife for the target. “Try and get inside of this, I'll give you an example” He quickly unwraps his weapons, a little giddy in his excitement to teach Oikawa archery. 

Iwaizumi picks up his bow and straightens, standing tall. He loosens an arrow from his stack and positions it with an expert hand on the bow; holding it vertically with the arrow caught steady between two fingers. The muscles in Iwaizumi's arms tighten so Oikawa can see the strength in him as he pulls back the bowstring, the tip of his tongue sticks out from pink lips in concentration and the sun shines through the trees at just the right angle; illuminating him in gold.

Oikawa couldn't help but look on in breathless awe. Iwaizumi's arm pulls back, and then he lets go of the bowstring – the arrow sailing through the air in a graceful arc, quivers as it hits the tree dead centre. Iwaizumi looks over to Oikawa with an open-mouthed victorious smile, 'think you can do that?' he asks.

“Sure, I can,” Oikawa replied, feeling his pride being questioned. “At least with the proper instruction I can.” He adds, just in case he fails miserably and then he can blame it on the teacher. 

Oikawa takes the bow from Iwaizumi and they switch positions; Iwaizumi squatting on the ground and Oikawa standing tall beneath a shaft of soft sunshine.

His fingers tighten around the bowstring and arrow. It doesn't feel particularly natural to Oikawa; he's more comfortable with a knife or gun if he has the choice – but he's confident as he's always been a quick learner. Oikawa lets out a slow breath and his body relaxes, he shuffles his feet into a better form and then he pulls back back the bowstring; and they both watch the first arrow drop limply to the floor. Oikawa says nothing. Iwaizumi says nothing, but he looks at him encouragingly as if to say 'try again'.

The next arrow sinks into the ground a few metres from the tree, the third whizzes right passed it, and in the fourth he finally makes some progress as the arrow lodges itself in a tree; although it's the wrong one. He wipes the sweat from his brow, and looks over at Iwaizumi who has been watching his every move. “How about you give me some more instruction?” Oikawa asks, a little agitated by his silence and his own failure. 

Iwaizumi stands up from his crouch, shakes his legs to get the feeling back into them.“Sure,” he says, and comes close to Oikawa.

“Hmm,” he starts, hand on his chin. “You're a little tense. Let me get you into a better form.” He gently guides Oikawa's arms and hands along the bow, shifts him to a better standing point – Oikawa feels himself warm beneath his skin; his breath caught in his throat. “There,” Iwaizumi says, and steps back; watches his him like an artist looking at their piece before the final unveiling, “let it go now.”

Oikawa startles, pulls the bowstring back with shaky coordination and watches the arrow fly passed the tree again. 

“Erm” Iwaizumi starts, a little awkward and confused. “Sorry, I was sure that would work. Let me just-”. He steps close to Oikawa again, his chest warm against Oikawa's back, calloused fingers over Oikawa's shift the arrow into place, his other holds the bow steady. Oikawa feels the air physically pushed out of him; Iwaizumi pulls his arm back and lets the arrow go – it hits the tree right on target and Oikawa barely notices. Iwaizumi moves away with a large smile, and his teeth catch in the sunlight. “There,” Iwaizumi says proudly, “you did it.”

Oikawa quickly looks away from that smile; he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and settles.

“I think we should end it there,” Oikawa says, stretching his arms up and rolling out the tenseness in his shoulders. “I'd like to go out in victory – plus it's not like I'll have a bow with me when I leave.”

Iwaizumi nods in agreement. “At least you'll know the basics if you ever find one,” Iwaizumi says, still bright with pride. He takes his bow and arrows gently from Oikawa's hands, placing them carefully into a bit of old cloth and wrapping them up. 

“Of course,” Oikawa says with a smile, although he thinks it's extremely unlikely he'd just stumble across an unattended weapon – they're very valuable in these times; either in the possession of the government, rebels or lucky everyday citizens. “How about I show you my knife throwing skills?” He asks wanting to get back on equal footing, and nurse his injured pride. Before Iwaizumi can reply, he twists lightly on his feet, pulls his knife free from his belt and throws it with a deadly precision – hitting the tree dead centre. Oikawa looks up at him with a slow predatory smile that Iwaizumi feels hit him sharply in the gut, “Knives are more my weapon than a bow and arrow,” he says, letting his lips still in the familiar smile.

Iwaizumi rubs at the back of his neck. “You're good,” he says, a little in awe. “Very good. I'm sure you'll be fine then.”

“Yes,” Oikawa says, feeling equal parts pround and giddy at Iwaizumi's compliment. “Thank you for the lesson anyway.” He touches Iwaizumi's shoulder as he passes him. “I'll carry this then shall I?” He asks, holding up Iwaizumi's granddad's bag by a strap.

Iwaizumi looks at him, and at the bag and wonders if he should trust Oikawa with something so precious. “Sure,” he replies, and then smiles teasingly, “I like how you only offer to carry it once it's considerably lighter after we've had lunch”.

“I should think so,” Oikawa says, “I can tell you are much stronger than me, especially looking at those arms”. He nods towards them, and winks – pulling the bag over his shoulders and going off ahead of Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi gives a small, pleased smile and they head back to the river to follow the path home.

-

The water is rushing with blood – a stream running red towards them. 

“An animal might have been attacked upstream,” Iwaizumi says, and then looks up at Oikawa – worry pulling his face taut. “We need to be careful, whatever attacked it might still be up there.”

As they pick their way carefully across the rocks, they almost miss a small boy hidden in the shadows of the trees with his face buried in his bony legs. “I tried,” he whispers when they step into the shadows close to him, “I tried to pull her out, but she was too heavy. I couldn't do anything. I'm sorry, Mum I'm sorry!” he cries, and a loud sob shakes his small frame – his head collapsing back into his lap. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa share a weary look. “Stay here,” Iwaizumi orders, pulling his bow and arrow from his bag. “I'll go look upstream”.

“I'm coming with you,” Oikawa says, resolute – but Iwaizumi shakes it with a look; his face hard and eyes dark.

“Stay here,” he says again. “Look after the kid, remain alert.” He reaches over and squeezes Oikawa's hand before disappearing into the trees.

Oikawa crouches down beside the kid, but doesn't touch him. He remains rigid and alert; keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. A squirrel scurries up the tree to their left, a bird takes flight overhead with a loud flutter of wings in this disconcerting quiet, and then the air is shredded when a number of gunshots are fired – black birds fly off everywhere, seeming to blacken out the sun for a moment, animals scurry back to their homes, the kid sucks up his tears looking around in wide-eyed fear and Oikawa feels his heart lurch in his chest. He does not abandon his post, but he almost does, he has to grapple down the urge to run out after Iwaizumi.

There is silence again; a horrible, empty silence in which Oikawa can hear the loud pounding of his heart. 

And then out of nowhere, Iwaizumi appears running quietly back towards them – Oikawa can see blood on his hands and shirt. “We need to get out of here,” he says urgently.

“Okay,” Oikawa says without question, rising from his crouch and standing guard as Iwaizumi looks after the kid – allowing himself not a moment of relief at having him return. 

Iwaizumi makes to reach out for the child, but he shuffles away. “I need to wait for my mum,” he says, “she told me to run, but she'll come for me – she always does.” His already small voice cracks. 

Iwaizumi crouches down beside him, puts his hand hesitantly on his back. “I'm sorry to say this in such a way but we need to hurry – your mum is gone, I'm sorry,” the child stares up at him with wide, broken eyes, his mouth slipping open a little. “They're still here, and we need to go – I can protect you but I need you to come with me.”

The child's eyes have filled with tears, and he's shaking again but he nods and holds out tiny, thin arms to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi lifts him up easily, and holds him close to his chest protectively. He looks over at Oikawa, “Stay close to me,” he says.

Oikawa nods in silent agreement. And they head off, deeper into the shadows of the forest and towards what is hopefully safety, and home.

-

“Who was out there?” Oikawa asks, although he's certain he already knows – the accusation is clear in his voice and Iwaizumi looks up wearily.

“Some government workers, I suspect they were working without government approval – seemed like a random killing,” he says; looks away from Oikawa, tries not to remember the white, bloodied corpse of the young woman, and at the kid sleeping quietly in the canvas chair by the fire. 

Oikawa bites his lip, “So she was dead then? They killed her?” he asks.

“I suspect so, she was dead when I reached her – but I had to leave when they started firing down on me,” he says, and they both quiet for a moment when they hear the kid stir slightly – not wanting to talk about his mother's death when he can hear. 

Oikawa stares at him too, “I'm taking the kid with me,” he says. And Iwaizumi turns to him, stunned.

“No, you're not,” Iwaizumi says, “I'm taking him into town – he'll be taken in by a government family; but he'll have a good life and he'll be safe”. 

Oikawa shakes his head, disbelieving. “How could he have a good life with them? He's just gonna get shoved into the system, and then one day he'll be patrolling the streets in their uniform – no, he'll join the rebels and get revenge for his mother with me.”

“You get revenge for her, but you will not take this kid with you.” Oikawa opens his mouth to protest again, but Iwaizumi holds up his hand to stop him; commanding silence. “At least he'll be alive with them. With you, he'd be in constant fear of capture and if you do get captured he'll be shot in the head, or worse – tortured and then shot in the head”. 

Oikawa is silent, absorbing his words; he stares at the sleeping child – quiet, and small in his innocence. He nods slowly and then looks away into the forest; feels a horrible sense of betrayal that he is allowing this child to be taken in by his mother's killers – but he doesn't stop Iwaizumi from picking the kid up and gathering him in his arms; he doesn't even look over. Iwaizumi squeezes his wrist as he passes, “Get the food started, I'll be back soon”. And then he disappears for the second time that day, and Oikawa is left feeling hot with misplaced anger.

–

“I can't cook,” Oikawa announces when Iwaizumi gets back; sitting in the light of the fire on one of the canvas chairs.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Just what can you do?” he asks, feeling ill-tempered after the days events – he knows Oikawa is lying, he may not be able to cook well, but right now he is just using it to be passive aggressive. 

Oikawa slips his knife from his belt in a fluid motion, “I can throw knives,” he threatens. “And I never miss”.

“Oh really?” Iwaizumi exclaims, “we're going back to fighting again?”. 

Oikawa says nothing. They stare at each other intensely. “Fine,” he says shortly, “we won't be immature about it.” And he shoves his knife back into his belt. 

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi says, and then slumps down in his chair with a sigh. After a few long minutes of silence between them he says, “They're taking him to one of the only fully government-controlled cities tomorrow, many kids get taken there who can't get looked after by their families – they assured me he'll grow up good and strong”.

“Yeah, a good, strong ally to the government,” Oikawa huffs out, and folds his arms. He bounces his leg, and clenches and unclenches his hands; then blurts out, “We should just go run in there and kill them too – do what they do to us, chase them out of this town that isn't theirs.” 

“You don't know anything about this town,” Iwaizumi snaps. “People were executed almost every week here before, people starved and I only got by cause my granddad knew how to hunt, I was lucky – even with these scars on my back I was lucky. We made peace with the government, and now we live – you won't go stirring up things for these people again”.

“What if they want to fight?” Oikawa asks in a raised voice. 

Iwaizumi laughs without humour, “Who are you going to ask? Most of them are old in there, or too weak to fight. No one will fight with you, and you'll go in there and die – and I won't let you do that.” He finishes yelling, and then stares at the flames in growing embarrassment.

Oikawa stares at him a little open-mouthed, and flabbergasted. 

A twig breaks in the dark forest surrounding them, and they are both immediately alert, forgetting their argument – pulling out their knives and standing close together in a fighting stance. A man steps out of the shadows with a cool grace, “At ease boys,” he says, and when he steps into the firelight they get a clear look at the sniper rifle strapped to his back and the neat, gold buttons of his government uniform.

Iwaizumi drops his arm at the sight, but Oikawa stays rigid – his knife firmly in hand. Iwaizumi hits him, and gives him a meaningful glare and finally Oikawa loosens his stance, but he doesn't put his knife away. Iwaizumi feels uncomfortably uneasy under this man's cold, blank eyes and knows they need to exercise caution. 

“I heard loud voices this way, I thought it best to check it out,” the man says, and Iwaizumi swallows nervously – the argument they just had out in the open was very dangerous, he knows his granddad would reprimand him for such stupidity, and he waits for the repercussions; but the man does nothing. He just wanders closer to the fire without invitation and picks up one of the dead rabbits, “A nice, clean kill,” he says almost admiringly, “which one of you shot this?”.

“I did, Sir” Iwaizumi answers, feeling himself straighten into a soldiers straight-backed stance unconsciously under the man's stare.

The man nods, “You have some skill,” he says. “You'll make a great asset to the government when you join, which should be soon if I had to guess your age”.

Iwaizumi feels Oikawa tightening up beside him, readying to pounce, “Yes, I will, Sir,” he says as calmly as he can – eyeing Oikawa reproachfully, hoping he won't do anything to get them into trouble. 

The man stands up, “I think I'll take this with me,” he says, and slips the rabbit into his bag before they can say anything – not that Iwaizumi would, but he isn't sure about Oikawa. “I hope to see you soon,” he says to Iwaizumi, and then he walks passed them – whistling a tune; and Iwaizumi can breathe again.

Oikawa glares at the darkness where the man had disappeared, “Do you think he killed her?” he asks.

“He seems the sort,” Iwaizumi says, “Plus that's a long range weapon, I didn't see anyone close when I checked her body, but someone was shooting at me from a distance.”

Oikawa shakes with anger. “That bastard,” he yells, and throws his knife so it lodges deep in a tree; breathing heavily – and then he storms off, back to the house.

A little while later Iwaizumi brings him up one of the leftover sandwiches from lunch that he doubts Oikawa will touch, but he brings it anyway. Oikawa is curled up against the wall on the bed – Iwaizumi almost drops onto him when he climbs through the window. He places the sandwich on the dresser, and then climbs in next to him; keeping plenty of space between them.

The wind is strong and harsh that night. It pounds against the window in waves, and rattles it in it's frame – billowing into Oikawa's dreams; so he dreamt of stormy arguments fought against the howling, bodies torn apart in the wind and a little kid blown away from his only family. It seems the wind from the city followed him here, it howls up through his skeleton and pumps a purpose into his heart – he turns over in the bed, stares at the strong, lonely boy next to him and curls his fingers loosely around Iwaizumi's outstretched wrist. He'll make this world a better one for people like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many trees were harmed in this chapter. I apologise to the trees. 
> 
> The man at the end is kinda important. He appears a few more times and I literally only just came up with him as I was writng it, wasn't part of the plan but he fits in perfectly. 
> 
> Also the time when Oikawa's arrow sunk into the ground on his first try happened to me; it was at camp, I was doing pretty well up into that point, people were taking bets against me and this other person, the stress got to me and it was all very embarassing. lol. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated if you liked it. I hope to have the next chapter up sometime next week. 
> 
> Thanks very much for reading :) 
> 
> Thank you very much myheadisunderwater and Hal for your lovely comments on the last chapter, and all my fics tbh (you are both so kind :'() 
> 
> I listened to Damn you by Lana Del Rey a lot during writing this - it like doesn't fit the story at all, but I liked it and I am here to recommend.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Warning for this chapter, there is some gore.
> 
> Anyway - I hope you enjoy it!

(DAY FOUR) 

 

For once, Oikawa wakes up before Iwaizumi. Whether it be because of his bad dreams, or the strong wind last night he isn't sure. He gets up and makes a beeline for the bucket, picks up the sandwich Iwaizumi must've brought up. He feels a small smile pull at his lips as he looks to his sleeping figure.

On the way to fill up the bucket he wrenches his knife from the tree it was left in overnight and slips it back in his belt; suddenly feeling more at ease, maybe that had been why he was having trouble sleeping. Small trees have been uprooted by the wind, and a flurry of dead leaves and other debris have blown in – a child's old doll lays broken in the road, along with other junk; most notably an empty briefcase and a torn up old paperback, a rarity since books went out of print decades ago – or at least ones which weren't government propaganda. He picks up the briefcase and paperback, figures he can take the briefcase with him and give the book to Iwaizumi as a small way of thanking him for his hospitality. 

At the stream, which glimmers in the early morning sun and hurts his tired eyes, he fills the bucket to the top, and then goes and sits by the old ash filled camp-fire. When Iwaizumi comes out fully dressed and smiling, there is still no fire going – only Oikawa staring at it a little angrily with a pile of broken sticks around him. 

Iwaizumi stops on his way over, picks up a small tree that had been uprooted in the wind, “Saves me a job,” he mutters to himself, throwing it in with the rest of the firewood pile that hadn't been blown away by the storm.

“Hello, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says with a smile as he walks towards him. 

Oikawa smiles too, a little sheepishly, “You seem well-rested this morning,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replies, “Slept like a log – must've been a storm out considering all this wreckage” - he gestured at the debris that had blown in - “and I didn't even wake to hear it”. He smiles again, clearly content to know this and then plops down in his seat next to Oikawa. He sits a moment, looking happily about in the bright morning with dew soaked grass – and then he starts forward, a little comically, “Oikawa! What are you doing up so early?” he exclaims.

“I was getting water,” he murmurs a little insulted, he then continues on with a pronounced pout. “I'm not always in bed until noon – I'm merely catching up on all my lost sleep from travelling”. 

“Oh, right,” Iwaizumi nods smartly. “Of course,” he says, quick to believe Oikawa when travelling or other far off places were put into the equation – he didn't know Oikawa was liar, and was normally up at noon; although that was mostly because he got most of his travelling done at night. “How long were you travelling for anyway?” Iwaizumi asks conversationally, as he got up again to swipe the ash out of the small ditch they used as a fireplace.

“Hmmm since I left the city... it's been about a year I think,” Oikawa says, holding his chin in thought whilst staring up at the blue sky and squinting his eyes in concentration.

Iwaizumi paused in his dutiful cleaning, “You've been travelling for a year?” he asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“About a year,” Oikawa corrects needlessly. 

“Why haven't you gone home at all in that time?” Iwaizumi asks. “Your sister must be worried about you”. 

“Well,” Oikawa squirmed uncomfortably, “as I've said, it's difficult to say goodbye and if I went back I might not be able to leave again – anyway, I just know I haven't seen her for the last time.” He nodded his head along with this as if he was convincing himself. “I might go back home, or she might come out here – and we might miss each other in passing, she goes one way and I go the other. It's best to keep on going and hope we cross paths again – and it's even better to not fixate on it or I'll just stop altogether”.

Iwaizumi didn't say anything to that, just watched him carefully. 

Oikawa looked back at him, then let out a quiet, “Ah,” waggling a finger in an exaggerated way at Iwaizumi. “I got you something,” he says, and pulled out a briefcase that Iwaizumi had overlooked from under his chair . He pops open the briefcase with ease, and pulls out a tattered old book.

“Oh, thank you,” Iwaizumi says, surprised and genuinely grateful as he takes the book from his hands. He bites his lips a moment, and then adds, “I never learnt how to read,” feeling a little awkward, “they mostly use pictures on stall fronts, or they just yell out what they have – I didn't need it so I never learned,” he finishes lamely. 

Oikawa smiles good-naturedly, “Well I guess that's something I can teach you”.

“Oh, you know how to read?” Iwaizumi asks, instead of saying _I don't think there's time_. 

“Well since I'd offered to teach you I thought that was a given,” Oikawa smiles again when Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “My father was an educated man, privileged you may like to say, he taught my sister and I when he had the spare time”.

“I'd have thought you'd have gone to one of those government run schools I've heard about,” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa shakes his head, “Nope, my city wasn't controlled well enough by the government for them to put one in – the boundaries were always changing, sometimes my house was in government territory, the next day they'd shifted again with another riot”. 

“Ah,” Iwaizumi nods his head, “Well I assume most of the rebels won't know how to read if most of them are young, I guess that's another skill you can give them”.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he says, feeling guiltily happy that Iwaizumi is still worrying about that. Oikawa, then, gets down on his hands and knees beside Iwaizumi and they both clear away the ash together.

Iwaizumi soon gets a fire going and then they breakfast on half of one of the birds Iwaizumi had shot down the day before, and two eggs each. 

“I think I'll go to town today,” Oikawa says, “see if I can get you some more eggs before I leave”.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, looks up at him from where he's crouched washing up the pan, “You sure you'll be okay?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.

“I'll be fine,” Oikawa grins confidently. “Let me do that for you,” he says pushing Iwaizumi away from the bucket who stumbles back a little, “you go do whatever you like to do”.

“Hmm, okay,” Iwaizumi says, “I'll go chop up some more firewood”. He leans down, squeezes Oikawa's shoulder, “I'll see you later?” he asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Of course,” Oikawa smiles, “see you later.” He watches Iwaizumi pick up an axe, weigh it carefully in his hands, before heading off into the trees.

Oikawa leaves himself after scrubbing the pan clean and leaving it to dry under the sun – he heads off to town with the a confident step in his walk.

At the gates he isn't stopped this time, although the same portly worker still sits on guard – he just glances at him, lets out a small squeak, and then acts as if he'd never noticed him at all. Oikawa heads right in – and then with a quick glance behind him, scales one of the old buildings from before the fall. 

The encounter with the child has cleared his head. Oikawa's been distracted from his purpose; but now he's back on track. He needs to be discreet today, use all his talents, in the hopes of catching wind of the rebels whereabouts in this town – if he can't find them here by the end of the week, it's straight onto the next town. 

He runs lightly across rooftops – trying his best to keep to the old buildings as they look the most stable – peers into abandoned buildings with his torch that he hooks into his belt loop, hides in an alleyway as he listens to a conversation between two government workers – but it's nothing interesting; only about their wives back home, one even brings out a photo of their newborn who they've yet to meet. 

Oikawa gets back on the rooftops again, clambering carefully over broken chimneys, eavesdropping into more government conversations (all pretty much in the same direction as the first) – by midday he feels desperate and thinks he might just have to go about questioning some of the townsfolk in the discreetest way possible – pick off ones that are alone, and make sure to do it where they can't see his face. Just as he's about to descend the wall to do just that he catches sight of a cloaked figure running along the alley beneath him, they glance behind them warily and when their eyes lift to the sky; Oikawa quickly drops to his stomach. When he peers cautiously back over, the figure is gone. He descends in haste.

A cloaked figure may not be the most suspicious of characters – but in desperate times such as these, it's best to follow up on anything that gives him an itch. As soon as his feet touch the ground he's running after them at a fast pace, he cuts to the next alley, almost crashing into the wall opposite, and sees the flick of a cloak disappearing around the corner. Now he knows the way they are going, he drops back a pace; but always keeps them in sight. They round more corners; left, right and left again – Oikawa remaining in the shadows, he steps back whenever the figure in front reaches a turn as they glance backwards to check if they're being followed. This seems to be becoming especially promising. 

The hunt accelerates at a dizzying pace. They climb a wall. Oikawa nimbly follows. They run across rooftops, and whenever the cloaked figure turns to check – Oikawa drops to his stomach, or rolls behind an old chimney. Ahead the figure throws themselves off the side of a building. Oikawa frowns, and hurries to keep up. When he looks over the edge of the building; there is no trace of them. 

Oikawa drops carefully to the ground. He is at the entrance of a dead end street; to his right, the darkened alley, to his left, a more desolate part of town – the people making weedy silhouettes against the sun. He steps out of the alley and glances around him, left to right – no sign of them. “Damn it all,” Oikawa swears, turning to leave – when the sound of grate scraping against metal pricks his ears.

He swivels round. Oikawa feels his heart rate pick up. An old sewer lid is slowly shifting it's way into place. The thrill of excitement is hot in his veins again.

Oikawa goes to hurry over when an old woman, dressed in rags with wiry grey hair, pushing a wrack of clothes ostensibly steps in his way.

He pivots to the right. Her cart on creaking wheels is shoved in front of him. He goes to the left. She leans back yawning against the wall. 

“Excuse me,” Oikawa smears on his prettiest of smiles. “Can I get around you?”. 

She peers at him with wide innocent eyes, “Oh down there?” she looks behind her, and then shakes her head dismissively at him. “Only a dead end down there – I think you might be lost young man”. 

“No,” Oikawa says, still smiling. “I'm sure I want to go down there”.

“No,” She puts her hand on his shoulder. “I'm sure you don't, now tell me where is it you are actually looking to go? I'll direct you.”

Oikawa hisses impatiently and decides to discard his last rule in desperation, “No, I need to get around you,” he grunts impatiently. “I need to find the rebels.” He stands up tall, fingers his blade to show he poses a threat – even if it's one he wouldn't follow through. 

The woman snaps up, rather comically, her wide sunken eyes stare at him; she gives him a once over as if examining him, and then opens her mouth that is missing teeth and cackles loudly. “Rebels? There's no such thing!” she laughs rudely.

Oikawa's eyebrows fall down in confusion, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn't,” she parrots back at him.

“Yes, there is,” he says again, adamant. 

She takes a step towards him, waggles a bony finger in his face. “Then tell me, boy, where are they?” she says, crowding in close so the stench of her clouds up his nose. “They say they're here to bring about a better world, but this world is starving and they've done nothing to help it”. She prods him once with her finger, and then steps back – a fierce look in her eyes. 

Oikawa stumbles away, stares at her with wide eyes and says nothing.

“That's what I thought,” she says, and plops herself down at the mouth of the alleyway.

Oikawa blinks slowly, feels confused tears burning in his eyes – he shakes his head to clear them away, and then races back the way he came.

– 

“You, pretty boy,” the woman from the other day steps out in front of him, still dressed in her many shawls, “you changed your mind?”.

He shakes his head at her, still reeling from the old lady's rebuttal, “No, sorry,” he murmurs, shoving passed her.

She grabs his arm before he can, “You okay?” she asks. “I was only messing with you – how about some tea young man, clear your head?” Worry hovers on her brow.

“Tea?” he murmurs, a little out of his wits. 

“Oh, well not tea really – not like the good old stuff, but I can make some up for you,” she says, her grip loose on his arm, but comforting. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head, “no thank you,” he smiles even though it feels like the hardest thing to do at this moment.

She looks him over again, squeezes his arm, “You look after yourself,” she says, and then she lets him go. 

– 

When the gates of the town swing shut behind him with a loud clang, the oppressive hand that had been constricting his lungs lets go. He breathes deeply. Looks up at the sky and closes his eyes against the bright sun. They're real, he thinks, and I'll join them. The fire in his heart slowly stokes itself back to life. He breathes out a cloud of steam; and opens his eyes again. Blinks against the bright sun. Then he heads off through the trees, to Iwaizumi. 

He moves quietly, and slowly through the thick undergrowth – careful to step over fallen branches, whilst dead leaves crunch underfoot. He is so focussed on his task that he does not notice the man step out in front of him, until he says, “I was hoping to run into you,” his voice quiet and dangerous, a pipe hanging loosely from his lips.

Oikawa comes up short, inspects him with wide eyes. There is no gun on his back today, just a hunting bag hanging from one shoulder. “What do you want?” Oikawa asks.

The man shrugs, “Well, this morning I wanted a nice omelette – so I took some eggs,” he pats his bag carefully, “After a good meal, I decided I wanted a wash so I went to that river down by your house,” he points a thumb behind him, “and had a wash.” He heaves a sigh, “Then I decided I wanted that boy I'd met last night, the one who could shoot well, to join my team – so I went looking for him”. Oikawa's heart-rate picks up, his fists clench, _is Iwaizumi okay?_ He thinks worriedly. The man blows out a wad of smoke from his pipe, he must have a lot of power, tobacco is a rarity. 

Oikawa waits for him to speak, waits to hear mention of Iwaizumi. A dribble of sweat forms across his brow. The man blows out another plume of smoke, and watches him – somehow knowing what is going through Oikawa's mind, and finding it wickedly amusing. “I didn't find him, however,” he says finally, Oikawa breathes a deep sigh of relief but does not relax completely in this man's presence. The man takes out his pipe, points the end at Oikawa, “I'm glad I found you, so you can give him this for me,” he pulls a slip of paper from his bag, another rarity, and hands it over to Oikawa.

Oikawa shoves the note into his pocket, and looks back up at the man. “Promise me you'll give it to him?” He asks, a thin eyebrow raised, “It's very important that you do”. 

“I will,” Oikawa says, even though Iwaizumi won't be able to read it.

The man nods his head slowly, “Good,” he says, “I think he'll make a fine killer”. Oikawa stiffens at his words, but he doesn't say anything – he knows anything but obedience might get Iwaizumi hurt, Oikawa is leaving soon – he won't have to suffer the consequences, but Iwaizumi would.

The man walks passed him, and Oikawa relaxes. He runs off without checking if the man is still there.

 

–

Iwaizumi is standing shirtless, sweat rolling down his chest. He shines, glorious under the sun. His axe coming down in methodical swipes as he cuts into the wood he's brought back. He lifts up his arm to wipe away the sweat from his brow, and then he notices Oikawa. A broad, beautiful smile stretches across his lips. 

Oikawa desperately doesn't want to bring him this news. He doesn't want to ruin that smile. He almost turns and leaves. 

Iwaizumi's smile falters, and he tilts his head in question – throwing his axe away, and walking to him. Oikawa moves to meet him. 

–

Iwaizumi Hajime,

I read your official government papers after meeting with you – you are old enough to join the government army, but I'm not disappointed that you haven't as I don't want you to.

I want you to join me, and you will.

I want you to know, and let me make myself clear that this is a threat, my group consists of some of the best government owned killers in this world – and I want you to be a part of it. You have four days to make up your mind. Four days to run, or four days until you join me.

If you do run – and I strongly advise against it – we will find you, and we will kill you. There will be no mercy for any who you travel with or any who try to hide you from us, either. 

'The Colonel'  
–

Oikawa crumples the letter, “Damn it,” he murmurs, then looks across the fire at Iwaizumi. The fire's light sharpens his features and makes him look older than he is, older than a boy of eighteen. Oikawa can't imagine him as a killer.

“So...this is why you didn't get the eggs?” Iwaizumi asks, after a long, tense moment.

Oikawa is taken aback by the question, he was expecting something different, maybe something about the man who wants to kill Iwaizumi. “I guess?” Oikawa says. 

Iwaizumi nods his head. “The Colonel,” Iwaizumi murmurs to himself, “That's one of those high up military guys, right?” he asks. Then he snorts, not seeming to grasp the gravity of the situation, “What a self-righteous bastard, naming himself that – and it's not even a good name either-” Oikawa coughs. “Sorry,” Iwaizumi murmurs, a smile still pulling at his lips. 

Oikawa shrugs, “I'm not sure about the military thing, if they use ranks anymore I mean, it just seemed like chaos when I saw them fighting,” he squeezes his hands together, stares into the flames and wonders if he should tell him. He sighs quietly, “I've heard of this guy before”.

Iwaizumi looks up at him, not exactly surprised as Oikawa seems to be an endless fountain of knowledge. “What have you heard?” he asks.

“Grotesque things,” Oikawa says, “They owe their allegiance to the government, but that's only because they let them get away with killing. The government barely has any control, but it lets them sleep better at night to pretend they are aligned,” Oikawa gives a short, mirthless laugh. “He and his group of trained killers travel across the country, the government sends them to suspected, rebel bases, there they kill anyone they want, sometimes in the most grotesque ways – they're purely in it for the act of killing”. He finishes, and shivers involuntarily.

“Heh,” Iwaizumi says, “I guess I'm in a bit of a tight spot”.

Oikawa nods his head, sucking on his lip a moment in thought; then he blurts out, without thinking really, “You should come away with me, we should leave together.” He winces at the desperation in his voice. 

Iwaizumi stares at him wide-eyed a moment, and then smiles. He leans over and puts his hand over Oikawa's. “Thanks,” he says, “But if I run, I'm going alone – I don't want you to get mixed up in my mess”. He gives Oikawa's hand a short squeeze, then removes it.

“No,” Oikawa starts, feeling as if the wind has been knocked out of him, “You don't know your way out there – you'll get caught – I can fight with you, I can help you -” 

“I will not drag you into this Oikawa,” Iwaizumi murmurs voice dangerous; quiet and gruff – his accompanying glare making it an order.

Oikawa clacks his mouth shut, then sinks down in his chair, pursing his lips like an insolent child. 

Iwaizumi sighs, rubs a calloused hand down his face. “What have you done today?” he asks, not wanting to end the day in an argument like the day before. He picks up his flask of water and takes a sip.

“Some old crone lectured me on how the rebels aren't real,” Oikawa spits, clearly still cut up about it. Iwaizumi chokes on his water.

“You mentioned the rebels in town?” He sputters angry, and surprised. 

Oikawa folds his arms, his pout coming out further. “I had to, I had a lead and she wouldn't let me pass”.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi groans, putting his head in his hands. “I told you not to – it's dangerous”.

“There wasn't anyone around, no one heard me,” he shrugs dismissively. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “The government has a number of spies Oikawa – that old woman could be one for all you know!”.

“She wasn't,” Oikawa snaps, and then carries on snidely, “she was much too passionate about it, about how the world has gone to ruin and the rebels haven't helped to stop it”.

Iwaizumi breathes in deeply, calms himself down. “Not everyone can believe in the rebels like you can Oikawa – a lot of them have lost hope,” he says, “They need proof”.

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, Iwaizumi looks over at him concerned, then he murmurs, “My dad worked for them, I know he did. And I've heard stories about rebels swooping in and saving the innocents from execution. Isn't that proof enough?” He looks up at Iwaizumi with an almost desperate look on his face. 

Iwaizumi doesn't bother to say that people aren't going to trust the word of a stranger, he just says, “That kind of stuff doesn't happen here, it's hard for people to believe – someone's gonna get executed, or whipped or whatever – that's their business. No one intervenes.”

“Did no one intervene when you got whipped?” Oikawa asks abruptly.

Iwaizumi seizes up, feels hurt spill through his body. “Yeah, no one did anything,” he says quietly. He sits silently for a few moments, and then murmurs, “I once had ideas like you. A little kid was going to get executed, I jumped in – trying to be all flashy rebel hero – was caught straight away, and they still got killed anyway. I got, I don't know how many lashes.” He snorts without humour, “I lost count, drifted in and out of conciousness. I was lucky I didn't get myself killed – but they watched me and my granddad closer after that”. Iwaizumi clenches his fists, his annoyance swarming back in. “You're too prideful, too nosy – too much everything! You'll get yourself killed if you just argue with everyone who doesn't agree with you, do you realise someone could have heard you?”. 

He looks up at Oikawa who is staring into the dying fire – his lips pulled together. 

Oikawa shuts his eyes, and tries not to imagine a young Iwaizumi tied to a pole, naked back exposed whilst a man paced behind him whip in hand; struck when he pleased, until blood flowed freely and then he'd pass off the whip to his buddy when his arm got tired. 

“We need to get them out of this town,” Oikawa murmurs shortly, _away from you_ he doesn't say.

Iwaizumi sighs, doesn't say anything for a while. “Not all of them are bad, Oikawa,” he says carefully.

Oikawa sputters, too astonished for words for a moment. “They whipped you Iwaizumi, they killed some innocent kid, and that boy's mum – how can you say that?”

“I know what some of them did to me, Oikawa, I'll never forget it,” he says. “Sure, they all work for a corrupt government – but some of them join because they have to so they can send home money to their families in the cities; so the people they love can live safely”.

Oikawa sinks back into his seat, pouting. “We didn't join them when we had nothing, when we were starving.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “Well I guess some people just aren't as strong as you.” When Oikawa goes to speak again, Iwaizumi cuts across him. “Just leave it at that”. Neither of them are going to change the others mind by arguing. 

Oikawa twitches in his seat a while longer, then gets up with a huff and storms off for the second night in a row.

“Damn it,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

They go to bed annoyed with each other.

(DAY FIVE) 

The stream widens out in this clearing of trees, becomes large enough to be a swimming hole, and then thins out again the further it flows. The water runs clear down the side of a mountain before it ends up here, Iwaizumi had once journeyed up it, and still he'd never found where the water began to flow. 

They stand knee deep in this freezing cold swimming hole; with their pants rolled up to their knees. Oikawa shivers loudly. Iwaizumi is already used to the temperature. 

“Don't you have a spear or anything? You know something more huntery?” Oikawa asks, between chattering teeth. 

“Huntery?” Iwaizumi repeats, perplexed.

“Yeah, that,” Oikawa says, with no further explanation.

Iwaizumi shakes his head, “No spears,” he says, “We're going to catch them with our hands”.

“What? Ew no, I don't want to touch them,” he glances down disgustedly at the silver fish gliding through the water beneath them. 

Iwaizumi grins, “That's how I fish,” he says, “And if you want to learn – you're going to have to use my methods”. His grin broadens at the scowl Oikawa sends at him.

Oikawa sniffs, “Fine,” he frowns, clearly not happy about it. “Now hug me,” Oikawa says, holding out his arms – clearly thinking his allowance deserves something in return. 

“What? Ew no, I don't want to touch you,” Iwaizumi mimics, staring in exaggerated disgust at Oikawa.

“I'm so cold though Iwaizumi,” He whines, and gives a dramatic full body shiver to prove his point.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “You'll soon warm up,” he says.

“It's not fair,” Oikawa continues to whine, “I don't have the native hot-blooded body of these parts, I'm freezing – hug me,” he demands again, despite the fact that he is actually already warming up under the sun. 

“Fine,” Iwaizumi huffs out. Wades slowly over to him, keeping his eyes off Oikawa's face and then pulls him into the most awkward hug Oikawa's ever had the misfortune to be a part of. 

They stand still in the water, Oikawa crushed against Iwaizumi's chest, their arms awkwardly locked together – “This is nice,” Oikawa says, managing to stick a hand out and pat Iwaizumi's arm, “but I was joking”.

Iwaizumi immediately drops him and it was only then that Oikawa realised he'd been lifted off his feet. “I can't tell when you are joking, or being serious,” Iwaizumi murmurs, rubbing at the back of his red neck.

“Don't mind,” Oikawa smiles broadly. “Now let's get on with the fishing,” he says, leaving Iwaizumi surprised that he's not taking this opportunity to tease. 

Iwaizumi nods his head, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and gets down to crouch in the water. “Well, first you have to build a little dam in the water,” Oikawa 'hmms' and 'ahhs' throughout his explanation, attentively watching each movement of Iwaizumi's hands, listening rapt to his words. “Now it's all built, you just put a bit of bait in there and wait for some fish to hopefully swim in,” he puts his hand on Oikawa's wrist, “Come on, let's move to the bank so we don't scare them off”.

They sit quietly. Staring at the rushing water, and empty dam. Iwaizumi reaches over and gently touches Oikawa's hair as it glows in the soft sunlight; Oikawa startles, and then leans back into his touch. “You need a haircut,” he murmurs. 

Oikawa self-consciously tucks a piece behind his ear, “Yeah,” he agrees, “I guess I do”.

“I can cut it for you,” he says, gestures at the dam, “whilst we wait”.

Oikawa bites his lips, considering a moment, “That'd be great, thanks,” he decides, “but you better not make me look terrible”.

“It already looks terrible,” Iwaizumi laughs quietly, and Oikawa leans over to smack him on his thigh with an indignant squawk. 

Iwaizumi kneels behind him, pulls Oikawa back so he's resting on Iwaizumi's knees. “Keep steady,” he says, and pulls out his knife. Oikawa feels a shiver of fear run through him; but then Iwaizumi is just pulling back a lock of his hair and cutting through it. “Sorry,” he says, “I don't have any scissors”. 

He continues to pull back Oikawa's hair in gentle motions; Oikawa watches as clumps of it fall off his shoulders and wash away down the stream. When he finishes, Oikawa can feel the sun's gentle warmth on the back of his neck. Iwaizumi runs his hand through the shorter hair and smiles, “Looks good,” he says, and Oikawa tries not to blush.

“Thanks,” Oikawa whispers in a high voice, coughs loudly and looks away.

“You also need new clothes,” Iwaizumi says matter-of-fact, and completely oblivious to Oikawa's embarrassment. “You can't wear mine when you leave”.

“What is this, criticise Oikawa day?” He says completely recovered from his embarrassment at the threat to his pride. “Hair, and now clothes?”.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi says with a laugh, he straightens up, puts his hands on his hips, “let's go check on that dam”.

–

Oikawa hovers nervously behind him as Iwaizumi seizes a silver scaled fish with practised ease. He holds it above the water a few moments, as it struggles to get free from his hands, and then it goes still and he lays it lifeless upon the bank. Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa, “You want to have a go?”.

“Sure,” Oikawa takes his place standing over the dam. He dives his hands in quickly, and misses. Reaches in again, grabs a tail that slips through his fingers. When he finally manages to get one above water, it slaps him in the face and he immediately drops it. “I suspect,” Oikawa starts, now a little grumpy, “you only let me stay so I could catch all your food for you”. He looks to Iwaizumi who's sitting cross-legged on the bank, watching him with full blown amusement.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says, “that is all I kept you here for – look at all the fish you've caught”. He looks to the one fish they've got that Iwaizumi had caught himself. 

“Smart ass,” Oikawa grumbles, turning back to the dam. 

“Now, now, don't disrespect your teacher,” Iwaizumi shakes his head, “but don't worry I brought something else along for you to do because I suspected you'd be terrible”.

Oikawa feels his mouth drop open; he watches Iwaizumi crawl to his bag and then rifle through it. Iwaizumi turns back to him, a block of soap in his hands, “What?” he asks, confused, when he sees Oikawa's expression. 

“Nothing,” Oikawa pouts, and turns away – unfortunately this causes him to miss the block of soap flying towards his head, he manages to catch it before it hits the water but not before it smacks him right in back of his head. “Ow,” he whines, rubbing his head, “What was that f-” he comes up short; staring at Iwaizumi wide-eyed as he undresses.

“You can wash the clothes,” Iwaizumi says without embarrassment, pulling off the rest of his clothes. He stands there, with a pile of washing in his arms, glistening under the sun and completely at ease in his nakedness.

Oikawa, finally gaining a sense of self, climbs out onto the bank, snatches the soap from his hands and begins to undress himself. Iwaizumi, grinning warmly, slips passed him and back into water to stand over his dam; like a farmer watching his crops grow. 

–

“So...” Oikawa drawls from where he's scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain on Iwaizumi's shirt, “Iwaizumi, you ever been with a woman?” he asks.

Iwaizumi drops the fish he was de-boning in surprise. “What kind of question is that?” he asks, shading his eyes so he can look across the water at Oikawa.

Oikawa shrugs, “Can't I show an interest in my friend?” he asks innocently.

Iwaizumi pauses for a long moment, considering if he should play a long, “No, I've never been with a woman,” he decides to say.

“Hmm,” Oikawa starts, nodding his head. “You ever been with a man then?”.

Iwaizumi points the sharp end of his knife at him, “You know,” he says, “I don't really feel like talking about this with you”.

“Ahh, so you have,” Oikawa says delighted. Then he shrugs dismissively, “I already knew anyway from what you said to that woman in town the other day”.

Iwaizumi sputtered, the back of his neck tinging red, “Then why did you ask?” he wondered.

“So I could lead onto asking this,” He puts his hand behind his head, and leans back, posing dramatically, “If I had become one of her sexual deviants, would I have been up to your standards?” Oikawa gestured to his body with a wink.

Iwaizumi unconsciously followed the motion of his hand with his eyes, then whipped around blushing warmly. “Now that I know your personality – definitely not,” he grunted. 

“Ah,” Oikawa starts with a laugh, “so before I talked I would've been then?”.

“No!” Iwaizumi yells, rubbing at his neck, “Just stop flirting Oikawa”.

Oikawa sighed dramatically, “But it's so much fun to get you wound up”. 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi murmured with little heat, and went back to de-boning his fish.

–

They wash up on the rocks; drying out in the hot sun. Their clothes laid out a little further away to dry. Oikawa pillows his head on Iwaizumi's bicep, and Iwaizumi runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says after a blissful, quiet moment – his hand stilling in Oikawa's hair, “Can I tell you about my granddad?”.

Oikawa cracks open an eyelid, “Sure,” he says, moving himself to a more comfortable position on Iwaizumi's arm – hard muscle is not one of the comfiest of cushions.

“Well,” Iwaizumi starts, “In short, my granddad died because of me”. Oikawa tenses next to him, he'd been expecting a happy tale of childhood. “My curiosity got the best of me, I asked about the rebels – my dream was to join them when I got old enough”. He laughs a little, jabs Oikawa in the side as if to say _like you_. “I asked too loudly, got too much attention, and with my last failed heroic attempt of trying to save that kid – I was already on the bad books, so they decided to teach me a lesson.” 

Iwaizumi's voice has wavered into a monotonous tone, as if he is reciting something that has nothing to do with himself. “They took him from our house one night, he was old and wouldn't be able to hunt for much longer so they didn't care about him. They stabbed him, then dragged him back to front of my house and left him in the grass for me to find. I was out after curfew again, by the time I got home it was already too late.” 

Here is voice catches, it wobbles on his next words – Oikawa rubs a warm hand up and down his trembling arm. “He didn't even reprimand me, he just smiled at me so big when he saw me, there was blood in his teeth I remember, and then he told me he loved me, said he was proud of me and that I had to be strong.” Iwaizumi rubs a hand through his hair, and is quiet for a long while; just staring at the glistening lake and remembering. He shifts, laying back down, “I stopped my curiosity after that, I survived day to day. It wasn't so much fear, just the hope died out of me when I had no one left to fight for”. He finishes, sucks in a deep breath, and he stills, the trembling stops. 

Oikawa is quiet a moment, and then he pinches the loose skin on Iwaizumi's hip. “It wasn't you who killed him,” he says. “And,” he pauses again, trying to think of the right words, “he isn't just your guilt, Iwaizumi, he isn't just the pain you felt when you lost him,” he says. “He's so much more than that, and I know he meant more than that to you – tell me about who he was”.

Iwaizumi stares down at him, a little surprised by his words. Then he tilts his head back, stares at the cloudy blue sky above them and smiles. “We used to watch the clouds sometimes,” he says.

“Oh, yeah,” Oikawa murmurs, turning over so he can see the sky too. “Tell me what you can see in the clouds now”. 

“Well,” Iwaizumi stares at the sky, then points to a particularly blobby cloud, “that one looks like you.”

“Thanks,” Oikawa snorts, then looks for a particularly horrendous one himself. “That one looks like you,” he says when he spots one, “has your hair and everything.” 

“No,” Iwaizumi says, “I think it looks more like you – you see it's got your small nose.”

They continue this silly argument back and forth, until Iwaizumi notices that he is crying. “Huh?” he mutters, a small part confused and alarmed; he hasn't cried in so long. Oikawa sits up and stares at him with his wide, unblinking eyes; and Iwaizumi feels acutely vulnerable in this moment, as if whatever words come out of Oikawa's mouth right now would have the ability to break him, or make him again.

Oikawa crawls up his body, holds his face gently in his hands and wipes away his tears; Iwaizumi puts his hands on the small of Oikawa's back and lets him. 

“It's okay,” Oikawa whispers, rubbing his thumbs under Iwaizumi's eyes, “Just keep talking about him sometimes, and eventually it won't hurt as much to do so”.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says, his voice thick. “Yeah, I'll do that.” Even though after Oikawa leaves he'll have no one he can talk to like this.

When the tears have dried, Oikawa lays his head back down on Iwaizumi's arm, “tell me something else about him,” he says.

Iwaizumi drums his fingers against Oikawa's back, “Erm, well I remember...”.

Oikawa listens, rubbing his fingers against Iwaizumi's hip in a slow circle as they talk – they stare out across the water shining in the sun, fish scales glitter and the water runs smoothly over pebbles and down over a steep decline of a hill with a loud rush further away.

Eventually, when the sun begins to sink, they dress slow and languid, pack up their things; and drift together as they walk, heading back home, contemplative and quiet.

They eat salted fish that night, sitting close together round the fire; and they laugh loudly together at old, almost forgotten memories (that had been buried purposefully, or merely with time).

 

(DAY SIX) 

It is a hazy morning. Steam seems to rise up from the ground, and makes the people loom, blurry out in front of them as murky silohouttes. Oikawa wipes the sweat from his face, and hands the towel back to Iwaizumi. 

They bicker blithely as they walk through town; 

“Trade the fish so you can get more food,” Oikawa argues.

“No, I'm trading it to get you clothes,” Iwaizumi argues back.

And so they continue, until they stand between one food cart and one selling clothes. 

Then the speakers crackle on, and the argument is forgotten as quickly as it came.

The cold voice of The Colonel, cuts through the sunny day, the man they'd only just met less than three days gone, but what feels like a dream ago. “A suspected rebel was caught out after curfew a few nights ago, and since then we have been informed a base working against your government has formed in this town,” a break, the town holds its breath, Oikawa strongly suspects he is taking a drag from his pipe. “Here is your punishment,” he says, then the speakers turn off with a resounding click. 

No one says anything. No one breathes. 

And then; a hot breeze blows through the town, doors creak and slam shut, caravans sway, torn curtains snap and whip in the breeze, and a distant droning grows ever closer. Then a shadow glides elegantly over them, it blots out the sun and they all look up in unison; they are not many people, but one alone, functioning together perfectly in their dance. They look up, as if to see what has happened to their sun, and then a ripple of abject horror passes through them, and it is reflected on all their faces. 

The fighter plane hovers above them, like a bird in the sky and they worms in the ground. For one stupid, blissful moment they wonder what it will do, if it is friend or foe; and then it starts raining bullets.

The bullets kick up the dust, chip buildings, break glass and sink into bodies and go through them – bodies that spray blood and spew out guts, and they fall to their knees, enveloped by deaths arms before they hit the ground. Some welcome his touch, others plea for one more moment of life.

Iwaizumi wonders, as chaos rains down, if Oikawa sees his dreams of the rebels burning around him. He wonders if the thought has crossed Oikawa's mind – since it started raining bullets only seconds ago – that he will not make it out alive. Iwaizumi frowns, decides he doesn't like that thought. 

Someone yells, far off, “Protect the young!”, and Iwaizumi kicks into action. He grabs Oikawa by the shoulders, shoving him to the ground, and then covers Oikawa protectively with his body; but it's not that easy – Oikawa won't go down without a fight. They wrestle to be on top, Oikawa wanting to protect Iwaizumi, and vice-versa. They fight under a hail of bullets, as people fall around them, the ones left standing are picked off like sitting ducks. To end it, Iwaizumi picks up some fallen wreckage, a shoe, smacks Oikawa on the head; knocking him unconscious – he regrets it, for a brief moment, he does not want to die alone.

And then he is over it. He scrunches up his eyes, curls his fingers around Oikawa's wrists and lays tense, and still on top of him. “You keep on dreaming and hoping enough for the both of us,” he grunts out, and then waits for death to it lay its hands on him too; he wonders if he shall welcome it, or if he shall plead for one last moment in this world.

He waits to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I an asshole? did I just kill Iwaizumi? Find out next time when I update after 8 years :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> This one took me a while - I did not realise how long it was (I also was ill, and got obsessed with Firefly and Jessica Jones so I was distracted and spent most of my time doing that. Even still, I have not finished Jessica Jones yet.)
> 
> I hope you all have an amazing day. If you liked - kudos and comments are much appreciated. Thank you very much :)


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back after less than two weeks :OOOOO anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it is a satisfying conclusion for you. Please let me know your thoughts! It always makes me really happy to read them!! Thank you to Kazuel and myheadisunderwater for your lovely comments on the last one :)

(DAY SIX – CONTINUED)

A fighter plane hovers over a dust filled town. Buildings collapse. Fires spark. The gunner shoots anything that moves; two people running for cover, a child hobbling over the wreckage, an old man standing defiant amongst the carnage – who's eyes, the gunner feels send an icy chill running through them; but he drops like all the rest. The gunner grins, victorious – the sky is their domain, and everyone falls under them. “That's enough,” The Colonel's voice comes over the pilots headset, and they pull out – doing a graceful arc towards the setting sun. 

The Colonel takes another drag from his pipe, then stands, a content smile on his lips – _a good day's work,_ he thinks. Government workers stand in orderly lines in the cavernous assembly hall of headquarters, whispering worriedly, “how many of ours died out there?”, “when do you think we can send medical units out?”. The Colonel steps up to the podium, coughs lightly into his hand, and then taps his finger neatly to the microphone – attention is brought to him at once. 

In the old sewer network, the earth above them shakes. Their lanterns flicker. Rats squeak, and scurry to safer holes. The rebels sit cross-legged on the floor, arms around loved ones or their weapons. A blue-eyed boy glowers up at the ground above. An orange haired boy sits beside him, frowning with lips that aren't meant to. An old woman stands tall above them all, giving instructions in a loud, strong voice, “...you must be absolutely certain, this is not a decision that can be taken lightly...do we have any volunteers?” she asks, and hopes the youngsters will keep their arms down – both boys raise their hands, the orange haired one first; the other, with a sad look at his raised hand, soon after. 

–

Oikawa comes back to himself slowly. The world is blurry when he blinks open his eyes. His head throbs dully, and his mouth is filled with dirt. The world is blanketed in dust. 

A loud droning fills his ears, his head, his body – and he wonders, if there was ever a time that he couldn't hear it. And then it drifts away, the dust stops swirling – his eyes close, then he blinks them open slowly again. _What happened?_ he thinks dizzily.

Everything is quiet – the world settles; and then the screaming begins. He startles, and the world rushes back in. 

He is sweating horribly under Iwaizumi's weight. Something warm and sticky trails down his arm. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. Blood soaks into his back, dries into his hair. 

A cry of anguish rips from his sore throat. He reaches up with shaking arms, grasps a fistful of Iwaizumi's hair desperately with bloody, slippery fingers – he drops it, and Iwaizumi's head lulls to the side. “Iwaizumi,” he whispers, a crack in his voice, “Iwaizumi,” he whispers again when there is no answer. _That idiot,_ he thinks, _that horrible idiot,_ but instead he gasps out, “No, no, no, no-” and then tears clog up his throat and he can't say anything anymore, and _oh god_ he can't breathe. 

“Iwa-,” he manages to stutter out between ragged breaths, tears slip into his cracked lips and down his cheeks, “Iwa... please, please!”. He grasps his face in his hands, pulls it up so he can get a better look at him – his face is peaceful, his lip bloody and then his eyelids begin to flutter. Oikawa's heart misses a beat. “Iwaizumi,” he says again, and this time he is answered with a groan – and then Iwaizumi's eyes open, the most beautiful goddamn eyes Oikawa has ever seen.

Iwaizumi blinks at him dazedly, and then a soft, confused worry crinkles his brow, “Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay,” he murmurs, pushing his hand gently through Oikawa's hair. Then he blinks to attention, eyes alert, “Are you okay?” he asks, panic in his voice.

Oikawa nods his head, his own voice caught in his throat with his relief. Iwaizumi sighs, rubs a hand through his hair; his fingers come away bloody. “Ow,” he murmurs, and then shifts up a little, his brows pull down in confusion. “I think there's someone on my back,” he says. He shifts again, and the body rolls off. They both watch it slide to the ground with a loud thud. 

She looks smaller in death. Her colourful shawls are stained with blood, and riddled with bullet wounds. “Shit,” Iwaizumi murmurs, and covers his eyes. “She must've covered me, I didn't get hit – there's no way I wouldn't have gotten hit if she didn't.” He runs a hand through his hair again, and his fingers skim the wound again. She must've hit him so he wouldn't put a fight, “Shit,” he says again. 

Oikawa gently pulls his hand away from his eyes, they stare at each other a moment, “I'm sorry,” Oikawa whispers, he gives Iwaizumi's hand a tentative squeeze. Iwaizumi gives a stiff nod in return, he scrunches up his eyes briefly, then reaches over and closes her eyes with shaking fingers. “Thank you,” Iwaizumi whispers quietly to her, Oikawa stares at her as well – _thank you for protecting him,_ he thinks, but does not say aloud. 

–

When Iwaizumi pulls him to his feet they get a full look at the residual chaos around them. Iwaizumi has to fight down the urge to reach over and cover Oikawa's eyes. Tops of buildings slide to the ground. Bodies line the streets. Wooden stalls have splintered under bullets. A child howls over their mother's body. An old man clutches his bloodied chest and stares blankly at the sky. The smell of copper is singed into the air, and burning flesh. 

They stand in a pool of blood, and death lurks around every corner – picking off those who surrender to their wounds, and standing watchfully over the rest; biding its time. Fire rages, hot and wrathful, and buildings collapse under its heat in terror.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi says, grasping Oikawa's wrist and pulling him away. And then Iwaizumi hesitates, he looks at his broken people around him, “You need to get out of here!” he yells, “they'll be back soon”. Pale faces stare up at him; some are kicked into action, other's don't react at all – they merely look back down to their fallen loved ones, and welcome the thought of falling too. 

 

–

By the crescent rocks they sat on in a of day dimming sunlight, one that feels like eons ago, another person's life – they watch as three military vans trundle towards town, before they are encompassed by the dust. Iwaizumi wonders how confident they'll feel that they'll make it back home alive when they have to bury those in the same uniform as their own.

–

They go to the river. Iwaizumi had almost been scared that it wouldn't be there as well. His town had been destroyed, why not his river? But the rushing of the water pricks at his ears before they even see it, a gentle reassurance and horrible reminder that the world is still moving on – even after all that death. 

Oikawa is numb as Iwaizumi shakily helps him out of his clothes; pulling his shirt over his head and then loosening his pants. 

Oikawa stares emptily at the wound on the back of Iwaizumi's head, the dried blood on his neck, and a bitter anger and hurt surges up inside of him. He grabs his shirt from the pile and hits him, angry tears sparkling in his eyes, “You're a fucking asshole,” he yells, the words ripping from his throat. He pulls his arm back, and hits him again. 

“Hey, hey stop,” Iwaizumi begs, holding up his arms in a placating manner, but he does not stop Oikawa from hitting him. The shirt doesn't hurt, the elastic is stretched so it is just a brief touch; however, the tears in Oikawa's eyes do. 

Oikawa looks at him, his eyes burning, and watery, his lips pulled down in a tense frown, “Why would you do that to me?” he whispers, voice cracking. His arm drops to his side, and then the shirt slips limply from his fingers.

Iwaizumi moves forward cautiously. He takes another step, touches Oikawa's hip with warm, calloused fingers and then Oikawa collapses against him. He puts his hand on the back of Oikawa's neck, resting his chin on the top of Oikawa's shoulder. “You would've done the same to me,” he murmurs, his fingers pushing up to comb through Oikawa's hair comfortingly. 

“I know I would've,” Oikawa agrees quietly, his lips brush Iwaizumi's neck, “but that doesn't mean I want you to do it to me”.

Iwaizumi laughs softly, his breath tickles Oikawa's ear, “You're such a hypocrite,” he mumbles, rocking him gently in his arms.

–

When they get home, Oikawa touches a warm flannel to the back of Iwaizumi's head. Iwaizumi sits between his legs, close to the fire. He lightly dabs at the wound, which has mostly crusted over with blood, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes at the touch of Oikawa's fingers in his hair and breathes deeply.

“You know,” Iwaizumi murmurs into the quiet, eyes still closed, “Even though the Colonel wanted me to join his group, I'm getting the strong impression that he doesn't care if I live or die – what with all of those bullets coming down at us.” He preens a little under Oikawa's touch, as his fingers curl in his hair. 

Oikawa smiles, “I think it just shows they'd have as much pleasure in you joining them, as they would killing you,” he says.

Iwaizumi gives a short bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling warmly, and Oikawa leans down to press a kiss into his hair. Quick enough that he isn't sure Iwaizumi even notices. 

They drink cups of boiled water by the fire; watch the wood crackle, and snap, and the embers drift away in a gentle breeze in silence (Oikawa's head on Iwaizumi's chest, and Iwaizumi's arm wrapped tight around his shoulders). 

–

Kageyama and Hinata stand opposite one another at the gate, like watchful shepherds over their flock. People stream out in single file onto the road, and they watch them disappear into the trees and beyond. Both of them have their guns trained on the shadows and they watch for foxes; waiting for their enemies to materialise and rain down hell again. 

The people are nervous and skittish, barely giving them a look. A rare few smile at them, and an even rarer few come up and shake their hands, murmuring _thank you_ 's – and not the loud accusations Kageyama expects, the _why weren't you here when we needed you_ 's never come. Most of them go to Hinata, his easy, warm smile welcomes them – and they stand by him a long while, as if he is sunshine personified that can just warm them in his presence; Kageyama knows this to be true. 

Kageyama spots some of their men amongst the crowd, their faces grim and closed – their guns held close to their body – but they give a small, sad smile when they see him looking. One even steps out of the crowd, gives Kageyama a trembling hug, _thank you for being brave_ they murmur – Kageyama gives them nothing but a short nod; but the rebels know him now, everyone knows each other, and they know a million words are communicated in that motion, words that die in the twist of his tongue and won't breach the curl of his lips. 

When the last of the people clear out (when the steady stream has dwindled down to the occasional few running passed them), Kageyama steps over to Hinata's side. “You should go with them,” he murmurs, not looking down at him – just staring straight ahead, as the echoing of a building collapsing reaches his ears. 

Hinata rolls his eyes, a smile on his lips, “I'm not leaving you,” he says, clear and honest – like that will never be his intention. Kageyama's heart squeezes. “We've been together so long,” he continues, “how could I ever leave you now?”.

Kageyama doesn't say, _why wouldn't you want to?_ (Hinata is his sun, but what could he be to someone like Hinata?), instead he says, matter-of-fact, “Only four years.”

Hinata shrugs, waves a hand dismissively at the specifics, “A long time,” he says, he looks up at Kageyama's sharp profile (his hard chin, perfect nose, and beautiful steely, blue eyes) with his warm brown eyes that makes Kageyama's insides melt, and says, “Besides, I want to be here.”

Kageyama doesn't say anything to that, but he feels a frown twitch at the corner of his lips. Hinata looks up at him, and snorts (the sound loud in this stillness that has been created after the storm), “What's with that furious look?” he asks, barely contained laughter in his voice.

Kageyama's eyebrows crumple in confusion, “It's my face?” he murmurs, frowning further.

Hinata snorts again, “I know,” he says, smiling fondly – _I like it, I always have_ he doesn't say. He sidles closer to Kageyama, waits a moment, and then reaches over easily and entwines their fingers – smooths a thumb over Kageyama's knuckles.

They both turn their gaze to the starry sky – so clear on a night like this. Kageyama glances back down at Hinata, who still stares up in breathless amazement, and he feels a horrible sadness settle in his chest.

–

A cluster of stars hangs above them like fruit in a tree, or guiding lights. The people follow them – but Oikawa stays (for now). 

Oikawa sits by the window, wrapped in a blanket, arms folded on the window sill; watching as people spill out of the town in a straggling, broken line – some take refuge in the empty houses in this area, and other's carry on, the only thought in their mind is to keep on moving. 

(DAY SEVEN) 

The dust has settled the next morning. They sit, once again, at the crescent of rocks – staring down upon the town. Only a handful of buildings still stand strong, a few teeter precariously, and the rest have fallen altogether. 

Caravans have moved out, or been tipped over so they can't be moved and a lot of the stalls have been emptied out – no one opens for business today. 

When they finally head down to town in the mid-afternoon, it is empty – but soon the doors start to creak open, weary people step into the street (to see who has left, and who has stayed behind), and people peer out nervously from behind blinds and curtains. People carefully skirt the bloodstains still visible in the soil; but the bodies have since been moved – yet the evidence that they died here remains. 

The loud speakers crackle on again, and the people tense – they stare up at the empty sky in fearful anticipation. Iwaizumi reaches over, and grasps Oikawa's hand. The cool voice of The Colonel fills their ears again, he lets out a deep sigh before he speaks, “A message to all of the townspeople, your presence is required in the town square,” he sighs again, they hear him flipping a sheet of paper – as if this announcement barely interests him, “an execution is about to take place”. 

A horrified shudder runs through the town; people gasp and whisper, wonder if any of the people missing are the ones awaiting the executioners block. Oikawa stiffens up beside him, his eyes wide, he begins to shake minutely beneath his skin. “Hey, it's okay,” Iwaizumi murmurs softly, even though his own heart is beating frantically against his ribs. Oikawa turns his wide, panicked eyes on him – and Iwaizumi reaches up, runs a warm hand down his cheek. His eyes close, he lets out a deep breath, breathes in again; and he settles. 

The crowd has begun to run passed them; they are a large rock that parts the river – and then they get pulled along by its current. Iwaizumi still holds tight to Oikawa hand, so they don't lose each other in the crowd and because they both need this touch right now. 

A line of straight-backed, military men greet them in the town square – The Colonel marches in front of them, hands behind his back; he reaches the end of the row, turns around and walks back – the townspeople watch, captivated, and wait. They finally have a face to put to the cold voice that announced the incoming deaths of so many of their people. 

When everyone has gathered, standing in a wobbly line along the perimeter – The Colonel stops marching, turns to them with a smile and addresses them. “We have a special guest with us today,” he throws out a hand behind him, and the soldiers part – a woman, bound to the pole and mouth gagged comes into view; tear tracks run down her cheeks that are strewn with dirt. She shudders a moment, and then raises her neck, standing tall. People gasp, which is quickly shushed by their neighbour, but no one says a word; Oikawa sags heavily against Iwaizumi. 

The Colonel smiles again, looking at her, “Last night we managed to capture a rebel, she was trying to escape,” he laughs, looks at his men and a few of them smile, “we decided today we would execute her, after all, it is what she deserves – she is the reason you were punished yesterday”. He looks at the crowd, raises his eyebrows – Iwaizumi looks at them too, wonders if anyone agrees with him; but Oikawa can't seem to take his eyes off the woman. 

When no rumble of agreement passes through the crowd, The Colonel looks a little disappointed, but he says nothing more on the matter – instead he gives a sharp nod to his men, who snap immediately to attention and begin marching to line up in one straight line in front of their prisoner – a firing squad. The woman portrays no sign of fear, merely looks on blankly ahead; at the sun which glows brightly in the sky, its light flowing down to touch her face. 

Iwaizumi feels his heart quicken again, he breathes sharply through his nose. Oikawa briefly squeezes his hand, they share a short, meaningful look and before Iwaizumi can stop him, before his name can tumble out of his mouth – he's running out into the line of fire.

–

Kageyama remains still in his crouch, his legs burning after such a long time of not moving. Hinata is behind him, his forehead resting on Kageyama's back – his small hands trembling as they clutch his shirt. Kageyama watches their leader; she holds a finger to her lips for quiet – her eyes closed as she listens intently. 

“I should have gone to the toilet before we came out here,” Hinata murmurs morosely, clutching at his belly; Kageyama suppresses the barest hint of a smile. 

They listen to The Colonel addressing the crowd. The clanking of chains as one of their own is revealed. They hear the sound of many marching feet, their leader holds up five fingers, she begins to count down. 

–

Iwaizumi dashes out of the safety of the crowd and after him, he doesn't even think, he just runs. He's almost to him, his fingers brush Oikawa's shoulder – when someone pummels into him from the side, and he goes crashing to the ground. He bites harshly into his lip on impact, blood wells in the cut and spills down his chin. 

He gets back up after a second of dizziness – his attacker stands before him, a woman, bouncing excitedly on her feet, her arms up in a fighting stance and teeth bared; she gnashes them at him when he meets her eyes. Iwaizumi runs his arm across his mouth, swipes the blood away and motions for her with a finger to come closer. 

–

They hear the cock of the guns. A yell. The sound of lone running feet. And then the guns fire all at once. 

Their leader drops her last finger into her palm, and they rise – sprout up like flowers from the cracks, pointing their guns. 

–

Iwaizumi knocks her back with a well-aimed punch. Kicks her feet out from under her – but she's always back on her feet, crowding into his space in a matter of seconds. She punches at him too, and he blocks with his arms – absorbing each hit. 

Then she decides to make it a little more fun; she slips her knife from its sheath and gives him a dangerous smile. Iwaizumi merely shrugs, and pulls out his own. 

– 

The woman hangs limply against her chains; her body bleeding and riddled with bullets. Kageyama didn't know her well, but she was one of their own – they all mourn her loss in their hearts, and aim their guns at those who did it to her. 

The townspeople on the sidelines scatter, and some government workers even take off at the sight of them. Kageyama's eyes look from left to right, all over, trying to get his gun trained on The Colonel – the one who killed Hinata's family, and brought him so much pain. 

–

She charges at him faster than before – her arms around his middle, bring him to the ground _hard_. He is dizzier for more than a second this time, and in this moment she holds the advantage. She drags her knife sharply through his thigh, and he cries out loudly in pain – which brings a twisted smile to her face. He feels the blood surfacing on his new wound, and spilling over like an overflowing bowl. 

She brings her knife up towards his throat, preparing for the killing strike, but he grabs her arm just in time – her arm shakes in his hands, as she applies all her force into pushing down. She snarls in his face, her eyes wide and crazed. His hands slip, and her knife begins its drop again – he closes his eyes;

And then she is gone, Iwaizumi blinks confusedly up at the clear blue sky above him. 

After a moment, Oikawa appears above him, looking furious, and then his face softens when their eyes meet. There is a blood splatter on his cheek, and his lips tremble as he reaches down for Iwaizumi. He lifts him up with strength Iwaizumi didn't know he had, and throws Iwaizumi's arm across his own shoulders; dragging him away from the bullets and the rebels.

Iwaizumi glances behind him, and sees her crumpled body on the ground, he doesn't know whether she is unconscious or dead; he isn't sure if he wants to find out. 

–

Kageyama finally catches sight of The Colonel, he is scrambling behind his own men and ordering them into action. A rebel falls on Kageyama's right; some of the blood sprays up and warms his shirt. He points his gun at The Colonel's chest, and he does not hesitate to pull back the trigger. The Colonel staggers a moment, confusion lighting up his face, he wonders how he could've been hit through all his men, and then he gives a slow smile, happy to die at the hands of a master. Kageyama watches him fall to the ground and die like all the rest. Hinata watches the scene unfold with an expression of grim satisfaction.

“You did what you promised,” he says to Kageyama, “You don't have anymore debts to pay off to me now – you can leave.” He frowns a little as he says it, and looks down. 

Kageyama gives a small smile, touches Hinata's cheek, “Like I could ever leave you.”

–

“You're such a reckless bastard,” Iwaizumi murmurs drowsily, as Oikawa drags him away. “Why did you even run out there? You could've been killed.” He feels the blood from his wound dripping down his leg.

Oikawa doesn't say anything at first, just gently lowers him to the ground when they have reached the relative safety of a side alley (they can still hear the gunshots, people yelling, screaming, the muffled thumps as they fall, and the thundering of feet as people run passed them and away). He crouches down in front of him, and leans up with a shaky hand, smudges the blood on Iwaizumi's lip with his thumb (who's lips tingle long after it's been removed), “I know, I'm sorry,” he murmurs finally, looking down guiltily, “I didn't think you'd run out after me.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi starts, his voice raised in disbelief, “So it was fine for you to run out, but not for me to run out after you?” he asks, seeming to pick up their old argument from yesterday from where they left off – except this time, the blame is on Oikawa. 

Oikawa's brow crumples, he purses his lips – and decides not to say anything, not wanting another argument with Iwaizumi when he's in this state. He merely reaches over, touches his fingertips under Iwaizumi's wound – who winces visibly. He looks up at his face in worry, “Can I have a look?” he asks hesitantly.

Iwaizumi bites his lip, then nods stiffly, “Go ahead”.

Oikawa lifts the torn flap of material carefully, and winces in sympathy – the wound isn't very deep, but it's long as if the knife had been dragged through his thigh.“It's not as bad as I thought it would be,” he says after careful inspection, “but I think you need stitches.” He rips a strip of his shirt (one of Iwaizumi's), and ties it tightly above the wound – then he presses his hands firmly against it. 

Iwaizumi bares his teeth, and hisses in pain. “Oh, you can do stitches then?” Iwaizumi asks sarcastically, his face has paled considerably from blood loss and he's sweating profusely. “You got something with you to stitch it up? And then I can be on my merry way”. 

“Iwaizumi,” he murmurs reproachfully, hurt tingeing his voice.

Iwaizumi immediately sobers up, reaches over and pats Oikawa's hand awkwardly. “Sorry,” he mumbles, knowing Oikawa is just trying to help – he scrubs a bloody hand down his face, then sighs, “What do you think we should do?” he asks.

Oikawa stares at him a moment, thinking, and then he glances behind him, towards the gunfire and thinks a moment longer. He takes a hand off the wound, places Iwaizumi's on it instead and pushes down, “Keep your hand here,” he orders. Iwaizumi looks at him confused, eyebrows raised but doesn't question it. 

Oikawa begins to rise slowly from his crouch, he glances behind him again, and suddenly Iwaizumi gets it. “No,” he says, voice hard – reaching out for him, “Don't go out there again, I'll be fine,” his voice cracks, more blood oozes from between his fingers, “Just stay here.”

“I can't do it,” Oikawa says, shaking his head, “I need to find someone to help you”. Oikawa leans down quickly, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes as Oikawa's lips brush his temple – when he finally opens them again Oikawa is gone. 

–

She stands on the front-line, her men around her, firing a gun non-stop into her enemies ranks. She'd never got to do this in the first war, she was just on medical; right here though, she is alive, she breathes in exhilaration, her veins alight with adrenaline. _Maybe if they'd let her join the first one they'd have won,_ she thinks and laughs aloud – a few of her soldiers give her a confused look, but she ignores them. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a boy running towards her – his cheek splattered with blood, brown hair a mess and eyes panicked. 

She squints her eyes at him, a feeling of vague recognition running through her. She looks at him a little closer when he reaches her, and then she snaps her fingers in sudden realisation, “You are the kid who wanted to join us,” she cries, smacking him on the shoulder like she's greeting an old friend – he almost bowls over under her hit, much to her pleasure. 

“You are the old lady who blocked me and denied their existence,” he accuses, shocked by her presence amongst the rebels. 

“Why don't you join us?” She asks jovially, gesturing to the battle as if she's inviting him for tea. “I mean – you seemed so enthusiastic back then.” She laughs quietly to herself, remembering how fun it'd been to tease him. Even though she'd been very serious, she doesn't like these youngsters joining in with the adults war. She looks to Kageyama and Hinata sadly, their youngest recruits; she'd argued fiercely against them joining the military unit, but Kageyama's shooting skills, and their excelled efficiency together on the field had won out against her. 

“I can't,” he says, _so after seeing war he's not as brave as he thought,_ she thinks and nods her head understandingly. He grabs her wrist, fear in his eyes, “I need you to come with me.” Before she can say anything to it he begins dragging her away; she offers no resistance and instead quickly hands her gun off to a passing soldier who looks up in alarm.

“Leader!” someone yells after her, she waves an airy hand behind her. “I'll be right back,” she calls to them, not looking back. 

The air around them is tense, and she feels the need to lighten the mood, “You see that short, bright haired kid behind us?” she says stabbing a thumb behind them, she waits but he doesn't even turn to look, so she steams on ahead anyway. “He was the one you were chasing the other day, called Hinata, he's one of our best so I'm surprised you were able to keep -” he drags her into an alleyway and she's cut off short by the sight she sees.

The boy let's go of her wrist, and kneels down next to the one on the ground who's leg is leaking blood, touches his face tenderly. For a moment she's scared he's dead, but then his eyelids flutter at his touch – his eyes open for a second, he groans softly when he sees him, and then they close again. “What's your name?” she asks quietly, to the kid who dragged her here. 

“Oikawa,” he murmurs, not looking up from the other's face – he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the boy's forehead. And _oh,_ she realises, _he's wasn't scared for himself, it was for this boy here_. How terrible it is to care for someone in a world like this. 

She crouches down beside him, her old bones creak painfully but she ignores them. She moves away the boy's limp hand, lifts up the torn flap of his trousers to examine the wound, and hisses. “He needs stitches,” she informs him, Oikawa nods his head, knowing this. She looks into Oikawa's eyes, “Hold him down,” she orders. 

She grabs a thread and needle from her bag, tries to remember the days when medical was all she did – unwillingly the memory of her own less wizened hands sticking plasters to a little girls legs slips in, she shakes her head, _no,_ she thinks, _don't bring up old pain now_. Concentrate, and stop that pain from happening to anyone else. 

“What's his name?” She asks him, to distract herself.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa says, his voice soft, watching her wearily as she rips off the flap of material covering the wound.

She nods her head smartly, puts on her professional voice. “Right, Oikawa,” she says, “Get him talking, we can't have him passing out now,” she raises her eyebrows. 

Oikawa moves immediately, strokes back Iwaizumi's hair gently, “Iwaizumi,” he says quietly. No answer. “Iwaizumi,” he says again, a little harder. Still no answer. 

“Slap him a little,” she says, and Oikawa glares up at her, frost in his eyes. She rolls her own, “I just mean to wake him up”. She leans up herself and hits him across the face with a quick slap, gives another to the other cheek for good measure – Iwaizumi groans loudly, his eyelids flutter, and this time they stay open. “There,” she says smugly, although neither of them are listening to her now.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa chokes out, tears suddenly clouding his voice.

Iwaizumi looks up at him with equally gooey eyes, albeit a little more drowsily, she resists the urge to gag and instead gets to work. “Oika-ow!” Iwaizumi yelps, her work cutting off the probably very sentimental words that were about to come out of his mouth, he sits up, sees the stranger sticking a needle through his skin and flops back down on the ground in defeat. “What the f – ow! - is happening?” He asks, addressing Oikawa because everything weird is definitely Oikawa's fault.

“Oh, she's a friend,” Oikawa says, waving a hand dismissively at her. He slips his fingers along Iwaizumi's jaw, who she feels shiver (she said to hold him still dammit), “You're okay?” he asks.

“Well, once she stops sticking a needle through my leg I'm sure I will be,” he says, and winces as the thread starts to pull his skin together.

“Oi, I'm helping you,” she grumbles. _Kids these days,_ she thinks, _don't have an ounce of respect_ – even though she was much the same in her youth. 

“I know,” he grimaces, “That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.”

She nods her head thoughtfully, shoving the needle through again, “I guess you're right,” she says as Iwaizumi winces again.

“I thought I'd lost you,” Oikawa interrupts dramatically, his voice wobbly – clearly unhappy with being ignored.

Iwaizumi's attention is back on him immediately, he puts his hand over Oikawa's on his cheek, and proceeds to say some of the cringiest words she has ever heard in her life – and it's been a long one, much longer than she thought she'd get in a world like this. “I'm here now, I won't leave you,” he says softly, and Oikawa practically melts. _Young love,_ she thinks bitterly, _it can still happen in a world like this?_ Iwaizumi lifts his own hand up and touches Oikawa's cheek, rubs a thumb beneath his watery eyes.

Oikawa makes a series of warbling, gasping noises at the touch, presses his face into it – and then he leans down abruptly and kisses Iwaizumi desperately on the mouth. Iwaizumi reacts immediately by curling his fingers into Oikawa's hair, his other hand coming up to grasp his shoulder. 

“I said talk to him, not kiss him,” she mutters, putting the finishing touches the wound. They don't pull away immediately, even though she is right there, just finishing the process of saving one of their lives. Due to this rude display, she wonders if this kiss has been a long time coming, that is the only explanation she'll forgive. 

Oikawa finally pulls away with a wet _pop_ , that she cringes at, and smiles brightly at her, “You basically said to distract him,” he tells her like a little smart-ass, _kids these days_ she thinks again. Iwaizumi continues to stare at that bright smile in dazed awe.

She rolls her eyes at the two of them, and then gets up – which she does without assistance, which is rather a feat for a woman of her age as she likes to tell everyone. She looks behind her, to the mouth of the alley and listens. The bullets are coming less, the battle is slowing down – for better or for worse. She nods her head at Oikawa, towards the entrance, “You'll be alright here,” she says to Iwaizumi, pats him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees, still dazed.

Oikawa immediately listens to her silent order, snapping to attention like a good soldier – they walk to the edge of the alley, and peer out cautiously. The battle is much smaller on both sides, the setting sun glows beautifully over the courtyard of bodies; a silent watcher, a single flame – at least her comrades will see something glorious in their last glimpse of this world. 

“You two need to get out of here,” she says; she knows it will be over soon. 

“Where will you go after this?” he asks her, knowing the answer.

“Most of the rebels have left this town,” she says, not taking her eyes off the battle, she watches another of her soldiers fall and her heart stings, “If we win – we'll leave too, if we lose... those of us left here volunteered to stay behind, we'll pay for this fight with our own lives and not the people here”. She looks away now, and to Oikawa, “Follow the stream if you still want to find them, and tell them we fought our best.” She marches away from him now, towards her men who are waiting for her.

Oikawa looks to them too; at the tall dark haired boy who stands graceful with his gun, and the smaller orange haired one who swiftly hands him a new gun stocked with ammunition whenever he runs out. At each exchange the dark haired one touches the smaller ones cheek, as if to say _I'm glad you are still alive_ and the other gives him a small, trembling smile and keeps his eyes on his back as he loads up the next gun. 

_They will both die,_ Oikawa thinks, _they have chosen to do so for this town, and yet they're both so young._

Oikawa leaves, goes back to the alley and takes Iwaizumi into his arms; hugs him close for one brief moment till the tremors die – Iwaizumi doesn't ask, just holds him back just as tight. 

–

It's a slow crawl home, Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi along – arm over his shoulder. The gunfire behind them had slowly ceased to exist and all was quiet, and still and peaceful for awhile – until it comes back, but this time it is a series of bullets fired all at once; an execution. At each one Iwaizumi grasps Oikawa's hip a little harder, wonders which one will be for Oikawa one day if he joins them.

Oikawa wonders which one was for her, which one was for those boys who looked at each other with so much love in their eyes (which one saw the other die?). 

–

Hinata turns to him, a small, watery smile on his lips. Their hands are tied so they cannot touch, but Kageyama bends his neck and kisses him gently on the mouth for the first time. “It'll be okay,” he lies, “I'll see you soon,” he says, even though he isn't sure what comes after this; if there is anything, he hopes it is Hinata even if there is nothing else.

Hinata steps up to the executioners block ahead of him; always leading the way for Kageyama. The sun begins to sink, and Hinata closes his eyes as the light drifts off his face. The line lifts their guns and aim; he opens his eyes again, and stares out at the boy he loves, who's blue eyes crinkle and shine with unshed tears. They mouth three words each, “I love you”, “I love you.”

Gunshots ring, and mar the still air. Blackbirds take off and blot out the dying sun.

When Hinata crumples to the ground, bullets through his chest, the fire goes out inside of Kageyama. He steps up for his turn, into a still warm pool of his blood, a shell.

–

They can no longer hear any gunshots. Moonlight has begun to drift gently through the trees. 

The drain pipe poses a particular difficulty when they get home. Oikawa offers to carry Iwaizumi up on his back, which he adamantly refuses. He insists he can make it up alone.

Oikawa climbs up first, and then sits on the bed. He waits awhile, kicking his feet, before he sticks his head out the window to check on him. “You almost done?” He asks, and is greeted by glare on Iwaizumi's sweaty, angry face.

When he finally makes it to the window, Oikawa pulls him over the frame before he can stop himself, and then holds him in his arms, burying his face in his neck. “You took your time,” he laughs cheekily, yet his heart isn't really in it – he's still reeling from the day's events.

He smooths a hand down Iwaizumi's back, and frowns against his neck. “How many times have you given me a heart attack when your life's been threatened?” He asks.

“I'm not sure,” Iwaizumi says, “but the threats to my life certainly seem to have increased exponentially since you got here.”

Oikawa pulls back, a pout on his lips, and then he stares at Iwaizumi a moment – his eyes go between Iwaizumi's eyes and lips; he moves forward and then he hesitates. After all they've been through today, he needs to be comforted, but he needs to make sure even more that Iwaizumi wants this too – Iwaizumi puts his warm calloused hand on the nape of his neck, his eyes doing the same as Oikawa's and that is answer enough. Oikawa kisses him all soft, until Iwaizumi collapses back on the bed, his hand in Oikawa's hair pulling him with him.

The kiss is already so much different from their first almost chaste one back in the town and Oikawa feels something stir low in his belly. Iwaizumi starts it first, he begins to tug at the end of his own shirt and that begins their awkward fumble as they attempt to wrestle out of their clothes as quick as possible (Oikawa's head gets stuck in his shirt hole, and Iwaizumi helps him out, a laugh lodged in his throat). 

Oikawa carefully pulls down Iwaizumi's pants, gently over Iwaizumi's stitches which he is relieved to see are still intact after his climb up. When he's rid of them, Oikawa collapses against him again – a soft hand holding his chin up as they kiss. It is languid and pure for a moment, and then Iwaizumi's hot tongue pushes between Oikawa's lips and he pulls back, surprised, a pool of heat splicing through him.

Oikawa stares at him a moment, hand on his smooth chest and eyes lidded – and then he quickly discards of his own pants. He looks to Iwaizumi again, for confirmation, who gives a sharp nod of his head and breathes out through flared nostrils – he wraps his fingers around one of Iwaizumi's wrist, pulls it above his head. He lines up their crotches and begins to move, rolling his hips experimentally; he feels the first, initial spike of Iwaizumi's pulse beneath his fingertips, and then it begins to flutter beautifully, continuously.

Iwaizumi's heart beats wildly in his chest, his eyelids flutter closed and his toes curl into the mattress as Oikawa continues to move against him – he feels like it is first time all over again, as Oikawa awkwardly moves against him in disjointed, awkward thrusts yet it is still nice. Oikawa, on the other hand, feels warm for the first time since he left the city – he touches his lips to Iwaizumi's cherry red ones again, their noses bump and he sighs contentedly. Iwaizumi's fingertips trail up his naked back and grasp at Oikawa's broad shoulders as they kiss.

They separate for air, and before Iwaizumi can dive back in to kiss him breathless again – Oikawa lets out a quiet moan, that hangs between them for a moment. Iwaizumi stares up at him wide-eyed, and then surges up with a thrust of his own to meet him, letting out a quiet moan of his own.

“Iwa- Hajime,” Oikawa groans, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against Iwaizumi's.

Oikawa feels Iwaizumi's pulse spike again, and then he snorts breathlessly. “Trust you to say my name for the first time now, T- Tooru,” he groans, his eyes alight with humour and a smile on his lips – Oikawa bends to kiss it off, and then presses small kisses along the straight edge of his jaw.

Iwaizumi feels sweat pooling uncomfortably at the base of his spine, soaking into the mattress; on their thighs, their chests – wherever they touch, sweat cools. Iwaizumi flips them over so he is on top, feeling too hot and Oikawa gets a little breathless at being turned so easily – Iwaizumi presses Oikawa down into the bed with a kiss that leaves their lips tingling, before he lines them up again himself. 

He begins to snap and roll his hips skilfully, and Oikawa tilts his head back with a moan, remembering this is not Iwaizumi's first time. Iwaizumi's leans down slow, still rolling his hips, and buries his face in Oikawa's neck and kisses the skin there between warm, panted breaths; Oikawa buries his fingers in his hair to keep him there. 

Moonlight shafts through the window at just the right angle and illuminates them beautifully as their bodies intertwine. Oikawa's fingers curl around the sharp jut of Iwaizumi's hip, squeezing, urging him to move faster and he moans again when Iwaizumi complies.

Iwaizumi rocks against him quickly, his brow furrows in deep concentration and his lips purse. Oikawa lets out an involuntary huff of laughter between a moan, “What are you laughing for?” Iwaizumi breathes in question, stilling – his face reddening a little in embarrassment and confusion.

A smile tugs at the corner of Oikawa's lips, his face shines in the moonlight and the ends of his hair curl with sweat. “You just look so angry,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes crinkling with a smile and then he laughs again.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi murmurs, not sure what to say, “Sorry.” He turns his face away and tries to relax his features.

“No, no, no,” Oikawa begins, panicked, all hints of laughter gone – he tilts Iwaizumi's face back towards him, and blurts out unthinkingly in his haste to comfort him, “I like your face, I like all of you,” and then both of them are blushing.

Iwaizumi buries his face in Oikawa's neck, with a laugh of his own caught in his throat. He stays like that a moment, smiling bashfully, and then Oikawa begins to whine almost impatiently and surges his hips up again himself. Iwaizumi's heart stutters in his chest, and then he begins to roll back down – always ready to give in to Oikawa's neediness. 

Their ragged breathing fills the room, and sounds cacophonous in the quiet. Oikawa's hands run up his spine and to his shoulders, and then they begin to massage all the years of loneliness out of his bones, caress and smooth over his scars (but maybe he'll need a few more years before that pain truly leaves him);

Iwaizumi gasps against Oikawa's neck, heat pooling in his belly and stars erupt behind his closed eyes.

When they reach their climax, they do together, and Iwaizumi kisses Oikawa softly through it between moans – and then he collapses on top of him, his body thrumming with energy. Oikawa leans over, tangles his fingers in Iwaizumi's hair, kisses him desperately and he burns, again.

Iwaizumi falls asleep first, content to have Oikawa wrapped up in his strong arms, head against his chest. Oikawa takes a little longer, he watches, in reverence, the way the moonlight touches Iwaizumi's face and he tries to memorise it.

–  
.

.

.

(DAY EIGHT)

When he wakes up the next morning he is sticky and sweaty, and Oikawa is gone – he lies there for a moment and _hurts_. He expected it, he really did, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt.

He thinks; maybe Oikawa was just meant to be a small moment in his life, someone just passing through. He wonders if this is what it was like for his mother when his father left after their one summer together. He wonders if Oikawa will become a person who he'll remember one day as if looking through a dusty window; his outline blurred and voice muffled (when he'll no longer be able to remember what the curve of his lips feels like). When that time comes, Iwaizumi supposes it will no longer hurt, but right now it does. It hurts so much.

Iwaizumi decides, right then and there, _forgetting him?_ that is not what he wants. 

He gets up, throws off the covers, grabs his granddad's old bag from under the bed and shoves it full with essentials. He dresses in a rush, he doesn't remember the exact motions he takes to put them on, and then he runs out after the boy who filled him with hope again.

–

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Oikawa becomes aware to his situation when the sound of loud, angry screaming and the pounding of running feet over the forest floor reaches his ears. 

He whirls around, wipes the tears from beneath his eyes, face flushed and heart beating rapidly – that is until he sees the ferocious anger on Iwaizumi's face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips a furious scowl, and each running step seems to be taken with the purpose of reaching Oikawa and drowning him in the river.

“Iwaizumi, don't run!” Oikawa screeches in worry, as Iwaizumi flies toward him, “You'll tear out your stitches!”.

“You fucking bastard!” Iwaizumi yells, still running.

They go for a dip in the freezing, rushing river, fully clothed (they fall in when Iwaizumi hits him full speed – laboured breathing, a ferocious glare that quickly melts into soft eyes and gentle touches. A warm, calloused hand slips up Oikawa's chin, holds him still – and then they are kissing again, desperate but unhurried. Oikawa's hands grip Iwaizumi's shoulders, and Iwaizumi pulls his fingers through soaking, tangled hair). Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa out of the water, to the bank, and there they sprawl – wrapped tight in each other's embrace. Iwaizumi buries his broad smile in Oikawa's neck, and Oikawa laughs aloud in nothing but pure joy; 

 

“Wherever you go, I'm coming with you.”

Iwaizumi doesn't know if Oikawa will change the world in his lifetime, maybe he'll inspire other's who come after him, but he thinks he'll definitely save a few people from it – all he does know for certain is he will be right alongside him if he does. 

\- End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa: ‘and that iwa-chan, is how you fell in love with me in an alternate universe’  
> Iwaizumi: 'I’m surprised by the lack of aliens’  
> Oikawa: *gasp* 'let me change the ending “when oikawa and iwaizumi finally make it to the resistance, they’re surprised to find that the true rebels are actually aliens from a far off planet who have come down to free the good humans from themselves - oikawa, who is adept in many an alien language manages to communicate-’  
> Iwaizumi: 'No.’  
> Oikawa: 'Iwa-chan!’  
> Iwaizumi: 'Just go to sleep oikawa, you’ve told your bed time story for the night’  
> Oikawa: 'Fine’  
> Iwaizumi: ’….oikawa?…*cough cough* "in actuality the rebels were loads of mini Godzilla’s, with giant and original Godzilla as their leader, they were bent on the protection of mankind because only they-’  
> Oikawa: 'Iwaizumi if I have to go to sleep you do too’  
> Iwaizumi: '…okay’
> 
> I'm happy it's over, but this was a lot of fun to write - I really hope you liked then ending!!  
> 
> I killed my fave character. Like iwaoi is otp, but kags is my fave character. There is a special place in hell for people like me. My room! Where I write my sinful fanfics and kill my fave characters - clearly I am already in hell because I am a demon. thank. pls visit me sometime.
> 
> Anyway - thank you so so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :) I have a lot more iwaoi planned, the next one is a lot less angsty (but still a little because what is iwaoi without angst?? jk jk) which I've started planning already - just gotta finish of my tma for this Friday, and then I can get started :) I hope you all have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a very tiring process - but it was fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> I've read through it a few times, but I apologise if there's any mistakes.
> 
> As I said, the next chapter should be out soon. You can find me at sakuragimichi.tumblr.com


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